Coronary Crystal Blues
Frost gilds the errant heart, as it should, cicles of ice forming at either ventricle. Pretty, … glass-like, … crystalline, but lifeless; not even dysfunctional. Not that the heart was guilty of betrayal, other than to its host, it just made very bad choices and slightly worse decisions, overruling brain and mind (yes, there’s a definite difference, metaphysical-ish).
It was once a deep red tinged in tones of blue with a nice, deep, rhythmic pulse, but that was before. There are those that think it strange that it’s not decayed, but then, it’s yet to expire. It’s just terminally sad and somewhat embarrassed, though not a trace of blush is cast. Foolish, foolish heart; not bad, not evil, but terminally unwise.
Of women, it’s been said: “can’t live with them, can’t live without them”, thus, the suspended heart, embedded in limbo, embedded alone, awaiting the passing of eternity when anything might happen. If that’s not the definition of an optimist, I don’t know what is. Of course, infinite patience is required: shame that’s a quality lacked by its host, extremely frustrating that.
It makes a nice sound though, whenever it’s struck, a clear crystalline tone, singing of the might have been and dreaming of the yet to be. Frost gilds the errant heart, as it should, cicles of ice forming at either ventricle. Pretty, … glass-like, … crystalline, but lifeless; not even dysfunctional. But that’s already been said I think. Still, ….
© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2013; all rights reserved