Our Foolish Hearts

A Year of Sonnets — 018/365

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

We’re cursed to love forevermore,
our hearts like trapped revolving doors,
so built to spin through love and light,
each atrium so blinding bright
we cannot see the baggage left
by others — till we stand bereft
and lonely in the growing gloom.
Do we, ourselves, invite this doom?

Now go and sleep away the ache
from falling down — foolish mistake
that we’ll repeat time and again:
we give to others what’s within
our vibrant selves, commodities;
we pray they’ll notice and be pleased.