A Tempered Heart

In a pocket nestles the left hand
A peculiar reaction to an otherwise
Comparable position, left to stand.

Words cut like knives through the air
And a lover's words are counted,
To be bottled up and split to pairs.

Water thy garden and reap its reward
Nestle its seed close to thy bosom
To reject the posterior of the sword.

I've heard the dove sing and cry
After the storm, hindered a soul
So different when the feathers fly.

Through the very fibers of our polyester,
There's a defragmentation splintering
With emphatic fibers given to the mender.

There's a trickle of the finished
Flowing into the absent knowledge
Through the shell of the diminished

Through circumstance the heart does beat
A hundred leagues under the sea
Held incisively for thee.

The dust of carnivals will subside
With the installment of time
Organs immersed in a bias hide.

Now flanked against the dregs
Of the antagonists set forth
Cutting down the horses legs.

This years spring will last on through
Bearing six pink apple blossoms too,
Assuage the fear of bidding adieu.