It is not mine to give this curse.
It does not belong to me to decide who to put this burden upon.
I cannot lay my hands on any particular man
and transfer this precious sickness
with a thought or even awareness.
No, it escapes me while I speak,
in the presence of those
whom I have no desire to please.
It sends its rotten roots shooting out
into any crevice it finds,
digging deep inside,
widening the fissures it finds
till it rends in two the thing
it had once fought to be a part of.
The blood in my heart is brown now,
due to the length of time.
The blood rust,
more machine than human,
yet still so delicate,
still flesh like a human thing.
And he creeps in silently
to take what doesn’t belong to him.
He quietly steals away my heart.
My hands are tied.
A little piece today,
a little more tomorrow,
soon enough he’ll possess it all
and I am utterly helpless to do anything
but stare in amazement
at the fact that someone could desire,
to own this broken clockwork inside of me.
Amazed and thankful, too,
for his will to try and take it.