Futile Heart

To the floor in pulsating rivers of ooze-like indecision,

sense of right and wrong lain the wayside

as fingers entagle the hair of another's lover.

Futile stumbles in the endless night,

an alien grace in the simplicity of becoming disenchanted;

idealized romance's first and last day ended as dust in the hand.

Hollowed heart gone ashen with the rage,

now laying limp in the promise of an endless fall into love

floating downstream, unseen,

to melt alone.