the heart never forgets
even when we tell
ourselves otherwise
each beat in our
chest
recalling it all
pumping blood up
into our brain
so as to keep
what we thought
as dead and buried
perfectly alive
the heart feels what it feels
stirring up the coals
to keep us warm
on those coldest of nights
we feeling it all
the way we felt then
maybe more so
it does not grow dim
it never goes away
it never gets less
only more and more
pumped up by memory
which our heart
clings to
it is not what life
is about
it is what it must be
about always
