An Elmered Heart Destiny Rodriguez
Her eyes hung low now. If she did not see then She would not be seen What stupid logic. She knew that it was coming, and Was not mourning over the remains of What was left, they had decayed Months ago. Even her skin had drained, her arms Would not leave a cross over her torso, protecting What was left to protect, but here not much Was left either. She crafted a rounded shape, lumpy then sharp The best she could manage, her supplies being A few scraps of construction and a single stick Of Elmers. This excuse of a heart would fill her until her own Returned to full health, this will have to do. Her mind could be fooled, perhaps, maybe her creation Was no replacement at all, but her own. She just missed the feel of it, slowly realizing that she was In complete and utter control. This lifted her, more because It was new found but not new, she gives the thing a beat. Maybe her tune could change, she thought, and it did. Sadness still dwells but her capacity has expanded. She has Always been a hoarder of intangible things and this was no Intervention, but a reorganization it seems. With her not much heart, And her eyes a tiny bit less low, she persists. Spring 2018
Temper Literary Review
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