Abrasion of the Heart


I hit the snooze button of my heart, silencing it for the fifth time, ignoring it. Not facing it.
I'm tired, so I turn around in the bed of my imagination,
Fluff the pillow of my sweet incomprehensible dreams,
And go back to sleep.
I wake to the ringing of my ears and to the silent beat of my heart. I'm alive.
My eyes crack open against the stingy salt like substances that have collected in its corners.
They widen as my mind begins to unfold and unwrap and untie and undo itself. No use.
So, I wipe my eyes of wonder, reach for the thick covers of endless warmth, wrap myself up like a forgotten gift.
And head back to sleep.

I wear my heart on my shoulder.
I know because I felt it branding itself there. As if to make itself known, not to others, but to me.
Treasure must not be ignored. Voice must not be silenced.
I wear my heart on my shoulder- which has not moved from its place there.
For it thinks that it can convince me to wake up.
Waking up equates to facing it
To loving it
To defining it
To guarding it
To loving me.

Will I be convinced to give in to its call? Will I allow it to speak for once? Will I listen? Will I face it and let its beat convey its synchronized messages to the rest of this body?
Yes, I'm alive but will I let it be as such?
Will I let it touch the lives around me? Will I let it live in me? Will I let it love?
Should I go back to sleep and keep dreaming? Or should I wake up and keep loving?
Will I hit snooze again?

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