Half-Heartedly

Hey there, it's Lydia here! This is a poem I wrote last week. I'm going to be posting my poetry on our blog more often, so keep checking our site! 

I don’t know its Location,

it should be on the left 

below my breast

in that general station.

Beneath cages of solid white

and fillings of pink 

wrapped in a cocoon-like state

where blue or maybe red pours, 

restlessly chasing each strip 

from finger to feet. 

But I cannot find its location. 

The doctor said all is well 

that aorta is functioning 

and left atrium is all in place, 

that your heart beats bebum-bebum

pushing golden life in regular trace. 

You’re pretty and young – 

I don’t understand 

How can you not find its Location? 

Ah, I think I remember now

as light poured onto my form

seen through a crack all broken and torn. 

A Greenhouse 

shimmering impenetrable grace

filled with sunflowers wet with dew

and bees floating from each face. 

There are splinters

shards all battered and blue

some mended some not 

crying when the cold wind blew. 

I felt that

fingers grazing that bloody wall

the bees stop, 

the sunflowers shudder, die and drop

and a stage comes into view.

a candle 

flickering 

flickering 

gone

I cannot find its Location