teeming with hungry roots of figtree
groping crawling wringing arching knotting
reaching out to the toofar blue sky
my heart is a wingless cricket
twitching and pulsing its retching legs
against the brittle glass of its mind
stridulating fiercely to be heard
my heart is an anchorless boat
drifting in the parenthesis of the lost loves
its sails eagerly capturing the winds
but no direction does it veer into
my heart is an inkless pen
scribbling away on an invisible page
rumpled by two overactive hands
and thrown in the fire of forgetfulness
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