The Returning Heart

Someone tapping at the door
A whisper of his name
A steady chill of mounting horror
An intimation of his shame

He recalls one he cast adrift
Landing on the distant sands
And her ruined heart, the one that he
Cracked with his harsh demands

He now hears the furtive knock
A tattered heart with tales to tell
Fractures through his fragile lock
Then a throbbing escort to hell

He wakens from this fever dream
But remains in endless night
No more peace, nor single beam
Only the theft of morning light.