Bottomless jar

 

In the bell curve

of a bottomless jar,

where you store

the rotten remnants, 

year after year.

my long-forgotten heart.

I swear I hear

the sound of rustling.

 

Then emptiness,

not a beat or anything.

 

In the darkness cast

through this prison

of endless glass.

Where you dropped

my heart to beat it's last.

I swear I hear

a flutter in the wind, fast

frantically stuttering.

A fragile delicate thing,

like the feint beating

of a recovering broken wing.

 

Then silence

is once again king,

no sound, just darkness

devouring everything.

 

I hear in the darkness

a sound. Words getting louder.

Closer, prouder.

Now showering

the air in their power.

The sound of wings flapping,

providing a backbeat

to get feet tapping.

To give the words

a canvas to pound upon,

like the worn skin

of a weather beaten old drum.

 

Sounds stop, dead. 

silence lives instead. 

Words, pounding, at my skull, 

trying to escape from my head.

Then the heart erupts

from the shattering jar

and flies as fast

as far as the twinkling stars

light is cast,

and explodes.

like fireworks 

of stained rainbow glass,

dusting the air

and earth with love. 

Words expelled at last.

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love & Poetry 

 

Kyle