Each Sash Cord Cut Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Love cries out through the windows of her heart.
Where each pane of glass has now been broken
In a soul that would cherish this, upstart:
Her heart wilts; frozen, it bleeds red like Canaan.
Each sash cord cut adds a jail bar - more.
In deserts thrown near suns of ash and dust
She wails, tears as if a musical score.
Instruments symphonic; symbols of lust
Crash tuneless, like wings of a flightless bird
A fallen angel to a godless world
Love bloated once a carrion corpse curd
Now walks among the living dead, heart knurled
A thimble, a needle and thread can repair
Such are the wounds we, desperate lovers, wear.