As the dense smoke of ill decision lifts,
it becomes clear that a heavy heart is cumbersome.
Where once it danced lightly and entranced,
it now serves to be too clumsy and immense,
it pelts the senses like a wet sack of cement.
Heartbeats are reduced to a murmur,
they are reluctant to answer love’s call.
You can guess that all stray thoughts travel
to hell and back without a GPS.
(C) Walter J. Wojtanik