Downpour

I need to stop my heart,
From bleeding all over the floor.
It’s getting rather unsightly,
And impossible to ignore.

Sorry,

I know it’s quite a bore.

Seriously,

I get it,

It’s cliché down to the core.

But if you would take the time,
To sit with it,
And to explore,

You will find that it is good company,
A friend,
And mentor.

Empathy is a gift,
A gentle knock upon the door,
A reminder that we are human,
And worthy of the pour.

That is,
The pour,
Of a heart,
On the floor.

Feel until it hurts,
And then feel a little more,
Feel until you ache,
And again until you’re sore.

After all,
That’s what it’s for.

The heart’s a muscle,
At its core.

So I’ll wear my heart,
Like I’ve never worn it before,
You’ll find it on my sleeve,
Like you’ll find it in my decor.

All of this to say…

I think I’ll paint them red,
That is,
All of my floors.

Because I do not feel in rain,
Only ever in downpours.