Still rage against the heart

I keep a placid existence in this bright and fierce world, partly from my lack of imagination and partly out of emotional self-protection. I strive and fight for life, without fear and without joy. Once, a liv passerby cut right through me, through my armour and artifice to my very self. She is far and away on rivers of heartbeats now, but the colour she planted in my shadow still shows up the seams and lends tears to my dry soul.

I look behind and see no flowers grow from my tears. The dust ahead breathes promise of new colours where none should be, yet always I shut my eyes and sleep to forget the dawn.