The Quiet Apocalypse of the Heart

The Quiet Apocalypse of the Heart

I see a photo of myself from that time

I am not smiling. I am not crying

I am not anything really, just there.

Just about.

I stand in the kitchen with tea

It is raining outside, still winter

How was it?, someone asks

Grand, I laugh.

I am back in that room, bag packed

Listening to the world leaving

And then I sit and drink,

Nowhere to go anymore.

The body knows better than the mind

I’m getting older, I’m failing brilliantly

It’s all turning to shit

We’re good when it comes to that.

Don’t trust the heavenly things

Keep your eyes open

Be yourself but not all of yourself

Smile sometimes. Cry sometimes

Try to be there

That’s enough. How was it?

Grand. Laugh now. Drink now

Nowhere to go anymore

I am back in that room, bag packed

It is springtime in Paris

A door leads to the stairway, to the street,

To the quiet apocalypse of the heart.