The Breaking Of The Human Heart
It's a slow and ponderous process,
The breaking of the human heart.
It doesn't happen in a matter of moments;
No clear division of one into two.
Part by part and bit by tiny bit,
A chunk is carved,
A piece bitten into,
A raw emotion filled nugget is relished.
As each beautiful emotion begins to wilt,
As cherished love and tender joy are butchered,
In the end what remains is:
A futile pumping of cold blood into harsh veins.
Nothing is of purpose and,
There is no meaning in this mundane act.