Bleeding To Know Poem by Patti Masterman

Love has always made her colder;
Impossible to ever warm her, with his own cold hands
Like an ice cream, fresh from the store's deep freeze,
Her love has to sit and thaw before imbibing
Or the vocal cords get hard bitten by frostbite.

Love is round after round of musical chairs,
And always falling hard to the floor
With no seat, no arms there to catch her;
A love which does not make an appearance at the prom,
But drinks a liter of wine alone, to kill the sting of disappointment.

Valentines, dances, parties are not for her;
Love's other victims are set aside for special memories
Which are not tender, and don't end in pleasure-
The heart doesn't break; neither does it ache,
Except from loneliness; still love is there
Whispering in the shadows, casting come hither glances.

Ah, Love is the great practical joker
Who never stops giving her pointers
About what she lacks, so she will never forget it.
Her only fantasy now, disappearing during one of his magic tricks
Never to be seen again.

Some babies should be put out in the snow-
It would be so much kinder in the end,
Because surely in heaven, nobody ever has to sit alone?

The Magician cut the part with the heart out of her early
Left it in the sawed-in-half box, behind the stage,
And so she spends the rest of her anemic years slowly bleeding out,
Wishing she knew what was missing.