Red

I received a heart-numbing letter in black and blue,

From a renegade resident of my heart's penthouse,

Who'd once lived in symphony and harmony,

Owning the place wholly and jovially.

My cardiac vein bodyguards were grousing 

On not being able to dodge the retrograde flow

And unruly trespassing of those distraught emotions

And compunctions that were embedded long ago,

Deep below the systematic thumping of heart. 

 

The resident had chosen a new paradise, 

Ghosting my heart, leaving it completely vacant. 

I knew it'd turn into an abolished, abandoned building,

Not letting any further new owners to dwell in, 

Neither wanting any tenant occupying temporarily,

Nor allowing any internal reconstruction. 

It was time for me to sign the requirement,

And I heart-wrenchingly signed it off in bleeding red.