Restless Leg Syndrome

You stir something within me;
something I thought you had killed.
You rattle around my old heart,
the bits inside bump against each other,
they make it sound like it’s still alive

But it’s the flesh twitching and tricking itself
like an amputee remembers a limb,
feeling its throbbing refrain.

It is a compulsion,
which is to say it is a weakness.
Not because it shows my submissive side,
but because it is insincere;
a broken rattle
cannot not make any real sounds.