heart is where trouble is

it beats.

and to every feeling, every tide,
it beats.

and for every good note, bad
every crazy spell,
moments dreamed of
or otherwise,
it beats.

why is it so hard to remember
that things don't always
go as planned
as seen
as thought of.

the tides, they don't change
they return
often, uninvited.

why is it so hard to not mind
reason, sobriety, certainty
or cause.

the answers, they don't change
they return
often, misunderstood.

mistaken for something so beautiful
it hurts
for when trouble strikes
like a thief in the daytime
you are left wondering

what do they do in the night?
the shadows help.

for in the seeming comfort
of an embrace
not familiar

it beats.