I have a heart of stone within my breast,
it cannot melt with joy to see one face
nor bound and jitter with great love, just rest
in sullen misery, it beats one pace.
This heart of stone is never light as air,
it doesn’t swell to choke my breath with glee
but sinks into my stomach with despair
and drags my wayward soul to apathy.
And yet, though made of stone, it is not free
from damage by the world that passes by,
it’s worn by constant tight anxiety
and pulverised by each unanswered cry.
My heart of stone lies heavy in my breast,
and with my soul, longs for eternal rest.
This is for JL's prompt on Dodge Writes.