My Bleeding Heart Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken

A vessel of tenderness spills,
each beat a whisper,
each pulse a plea.
The ache of love, unbridled, unkempt,
filling the hollow spaces of a soul
that asks only to be seen.

It opens like petals in winter,
fragile, defiant,
a contradiction that breathes
even as it breaks.

The weight of longing sits heavy,
yet it grows--
Through the cracks, through the storms,
through the quiet violence of existence.

This heart, bleeding,
is alive.
And in its pain,
it blooms.