What lies beneath the heartbreak,
Besides that which never silences?
Not the beats that shower
As the storm, with the drumming thunder,
Not the cries from an outspoken Heaven
Where you reside, for the shifting
Of my stirring eyes,
As I might search for places to hide.
What lies beneath the chest
Of any, where cruelty blankets the memories
Shrouding each step, beyond?
What sickness is to my living form
Breaking skin, for blood to be born?
What face may speak my hollow name
Like notes, broken along the line
Of a forceful shame?
You face the mirror,
Says I, to where I reside
In the reflection
To my own insurrection.
The love I can forever bleed
Like cuts upon my arms,
With the wounds to my somber heart
That moves with my form
Through the uncovered night.
You are there, through the moon,
Shouldering my every word,
To each moment of my silence
Hearing the heart
Of the unquiet you.