Your resistance ensures my heart will bleed
one drop at a time;
the single, lone tear of a clown.
And my soul tries to steal it back;
to clutch desperately to my dignity.
But the second hand keeps ticking,
and with each passing moment,
another driblet falls helplessly
into the abysmal pit of desperation.
The imagery in my mind's eye
has us swathed in immeasurable acceptance
of the Eden preset for us by destiny.
Hopeless, I see it now:
the familiar snub, shoulders squared,
eyes fixated on anything but my pleading tears.
I know I cannot force you to
open your frigid heart
to let the warmth of my love
pervade your spirit.
So perhaps this Eden was not destiny at all,
but my own estimate of it.
One last teardrop
falls silently onto my pillow.
I have gently closed the door
to the home you own in my heart.
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