My heart can be inconvenient.
Like a cat, it waits for me, behind doorways and around corners, ready to pounce.
Once captured, I am at its mercy.
I am impaled to emptiness as it commingles with my existence at a cellular level.
No longer functioning at its singular purpose, it penetrates my pores and seeps out of my body like tar oozing from cracks in hot pavement.
Arrested in time, my eyes burn with tears. My ears ring from the pulsating pressure of its density.
Wincing, mercy is implored. I am not absolved.
Attempts to escape prove futile. Having tried crawling through the sludge, my strength is depleted.
I surrender to the heaviness.
Curling up like a fetus in the womb, I contemplate what’s to come.
I drift into a dreamless sleep grasping at the hope to be born to the beauty of my heart; a more convenient heart.