If A Thing Turns Hard and Becomes Stone

If a thing turns hard and becomes stone, let it be a rock, leave it alone! For even rocks can cut to the bone, and split your soul, let it be known.

Her pearly eyes that cut through me, The nights and days that made me believe. I held them dear, as priests cling to rosaries. And what mattered most was that she was pleased.

As pendulums swing from right to left, Her intentional coldness left a heart bereft. A blanket gone on this New Zealand coast, She pulled away, when I needed her most.

The smoothest edge turns to jagged teeth, my bleeding heart cries with defeat. Tried I might, to rebuild this home, I fought and tried, but I fought alone.

Bare and thorned, the scars beneath my shirt. You plucked my petals, but condemned my worth. My Buttons felt the smallest prick, but it moved her heart and moved it quick.

And all the while, a shoreline recedes; the plot broken, my ink pen bleeds. I learn this now as water flows, Love unhinged is like broken prose.

If a thing turns hard and becomes like stone, let it be a rock, leave it alone!