Buried

I buried my heart, stuck my spade in the earth—

I dug and burrowed into the dirt, beneath moonlight,

So that I could glance upon it as it convulsed

And sputtered—it pulsed and floundered…

My heart is no longer, my chest is an empty chamber,

The cavity within me is carved and chiselled.

I am cold and callous, I cannot even consider

Giving my heart to another—I have languished

For far too many days, I let my lust linger and

Control me, in far too many ways—I do

Not wish to ever see another pretty face,

Or care to ever be any other than an empty vessel.

I have grown cynical and sardonic—love,

Once a yearning I craved day and night,

Now seems as mythical and farfetched as the

Greatest of Fairy Tales—no—I cannot

Help but feel true love does not exist.

DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com