Masochistic Heart

My heart likes to tear itself into pieces
though I’m not sure where it learned that habit
it seems to search for anything that has
ever had the power to move it
so it digs into the graveyard of the past
where’d I’ve buried the old joys that turned sour,
either with time or with it’s ending,
and those old ghosts still somehow haunt me
although I wish it would come only at night,
when I’m alone in the dark,
it has no couth or sympathy
so it may catch me off guard in the middle of the day,
sometimes in the middle of a store,
sometimes in the middle of work
and somehow I have to fight these battles again,
just to put them to rest time, and time again
still I don’t know where my heart learned that
and I don’t know why it chooses pain time and time again


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