Don't Blame Your Heart

[A poem for the Heartbreak competiton] Don't you think it's time we stop blaming our hearts?

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1. It was only doing it's job.

When the pain comes, 

Don’t blame your heart. 

It was just doing its job, 

Pumping blood through your veins,

Keeping that steady 

Beat, beat, beat

Constant in your life. 

Don’t wish your heart away-

Your heart stood by you.

 

The pain comes not from your heart

But from your eyes. 

Eyes gone dark and blind would be better

Than glimpsing the ghosts of your love,

The shadows of memories, 

The landmarks of pain 

Haunting your table, your home, 

Your bed. 

 

The ghosts that linger whisper and taunt

“There was once joy here.”

But for all you can see, 

You are blind to that joy.

Instead you find a pillow, 

Smooth, unruffled, unslept,

And curse your eyes for the 

Tainted visions they conjure.

 

 

The pain comes not from your heart,

But from your lips. 

Those lips that spoke a thousand words

Of love and joy and devotion

Now find nothing to do but gasp

In near silent sobs that try to drown

Old promises that fell away like dust. 

 

Those lips that hold more memories 

Than fossils in million year old earth, 

They remember everything-

The feel of that mouth, the perfect match, 

The taste of the skin, golden and sweet, 

The form of a smile, so foreign now, 

One whispered name, long gone stale. 

They remember what you wish to forget.

 

 

The pain comes not from your heart, 

But from your ears. 

Silence would be better than the whispers, 

The weary repetition of “Are you okay?”

A moot question - how could you be?

When every song summons a memory, 

When every knock brings a silent hope,

When even silence is a double edged sword.

 

You wish for silence when your mind replays

The exact way that voice spoke your name, 

But then when you’re alone in an empty house, 

An empty room, with empty thoughts, 

That silence is all you hear - that and your heart, 

Beat, beat, beat

Betraying the fact that you live on

When you would rather succumb to the silence.

 

 

The pain comes not from your heart, 

But from your skin. 

The chills and shudders that rake your body

At night when, alone, you can’t get warm, 

The goosebumps that raise on your arms, 

As you imagine your lover’s touch,

The hot tears that sear lines on your cheeks- 

Surely these are your skin’s fault. 

 

After all, you’ve begged for numbness. 

You’ve begged until your throat was raw, 

Until you were clawing at your palms, 

Desperate to banish the feeling 

Of a hand in yours. 

If you can’t feel the ghost touches, 

Perhaps you can’t feel the pain. 

 

 

The pain comes not from your heart, 

But from your muscles. 

What use have you of movement 

When you have nowhere to go?

No one to come home to? 

No arms to rush into?

No reason to wake?

 

You are but dying embers now, 

No energy can be spared on movement.

Perhaps surrendering your muscles

Would leave you limp and lifeless,

Dependent on someone to help you along. 

And if they don’t? 

Well, they don’t. 

 

 

The pain comes not from your heart, 

But from your bones. 

Once, your life had structure and shape, 

You drew support from a sturdy foundation, 

But now that has vanished. 

Your life has collapsed, 

Should your body not follow?

 

Should your bones not give in

To the utter listlessness of your days, 

The wearied stagnance of your nights, 

And disintegrate into nothing?

Your love was settled deep in your bones,

Piercing to your very core. 

Bones can’t escape the poison of dying love, 

At least not for long. 

 

 

The pain comes not from your heart, 

But from your mind. 

If you were able, 

You would reach into that soft matter, 

Tear out the burning memories, 

Force the connections to wither and die.

But you are not. 

You are cursed to remember. 

 

You don’t want to see visions of the past;

Those happy bright sparks offend you.

They shine in your dark, dismal mind, 

And what gives them the right?

The source of your brightness is 

Gone, gone, gone, 

And so should go those memories.

It’s only a matter of respect.

 

 

The pain comes not from your heart, 

So don’t blame it. 

Even after everything, 

You would allow it to remain. 

 

After all, it was only doing its job. 

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