Losing the Soul

It will leave you too…
you think it’s a permanent resident,
The hole is all carved out,
your chest, rare and bloodied,
has become a tender testament to
the hollowness of the actions now taken;
your heart you keep somewhere
in the back corner of the crisper,
in the refrigerator with the carrots
and a half used, slightly molding, head of iceberg;

But let me disclose something to you…
once it leaves you begin to recognize the signs,
The little hesitations,
The painful sense of self-doubt,
The misunderstanding of your own use of the word “love.”

you had to have seen this one coming;
You had to have known that
the gaping chasm of your torso would
sooner or later
be opened one day,
only to be found vacant
and with no note to show for it.

This, I will admit,
although surprising,
is softly inevitable.

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