My Black Heart

By Lee Alexander

The black heart in my chest still beats

steady, quiet, slow, and cold,

like footsteps in an empty hall.

It carries all the weight

not meant to be spoken,

secrets sealed in obsidian silence.

What it holds deep

is not only absence,

but too much of everything.

Grief curled beside love,

rage tempered by mercy,

longing stitched to regret.

It lets little escape,

not because it can't,

but because it’s safer

this way.

By Lee Alexander