a heart’s tiny tear
and blood splits apart muscle
ripples layers like beach sand.
old memories flood chambers
pulling apart what’s meant
to be closed.
the stretch and push of blood becomes
a white moth’s flutter against clouded glass
the whisper of long-past secrets
a ghost-echo, unquieted.
it does not help to build a wall
keep separate chambers
hold tight to corded hope.
A tear has opened
and tears do not mend.