The Heart Never Goes On Holiday

I hate my heart!
Perhaps not hate.
But wouldn’t it be nice if it would just switch off sometimes.
If it would recede a little,
Or just go away.
So my mind instead, could think of the day,
How beautiful it is, how the sun is so bright,
How the gentle breeze makes a promise
That makes the soul feel light.
But instead I’m stuck in a room,
Thinking yet again, of what I presume
Is love, or lust, or some similar thing,
The stuff that hurts
When you think of it too much.
Because my heart refuses to go on holiday,
I feel love everyday, in all of its pain.

by Mathew Lewis

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