Scar Tissue

Scar Tissue

I weigh my heart twice a day,

feed it green tea every morning

and at night, a hot bath

to soak these solemn thoughts

in lavender and rose petals.

Light a candle

to satisfy its thirst with melting wax

until, drunk on hope,

together we collapse under a canopy of stars.

A night sky spun into a spider’s web;

catching my dreams and disturbing my sleep

with air so drenched in expectation

I forget to breathe.

I weigh my heart twice a day,

slice it open, a live dissection.

Locate the source of the heaviness just off centre,

in the space I saved to keep someone else happy

somewhere they never chose to stay.