To find a dealer of hearts.

Hole where hearts were. 
Walls experienced, not seen.
Instead of filling the holes with brick and mortar.
Can we face the pain with in us.
I  pray we heal with flesh and blood,
With relationship,
With trust,
I pray you well as you live out how you have chosen to protect your heart.

Mine?
How do you protect what you don't have?
I took it out for you.
Blood ran down my forearms as I held it up to the alter I placed you on.
It's slipped from my fingers like you did.
I look down into the darkness,
I feel for what I can't see!
Cut my hands on broken pieces of crack pipe, yet no heart found.
On my hands and knees now desperate!
Looking for my heart like I look for dropped dope.
Frenzied search for more, this can't be all there is.
How do I get up from this obsessed search?
More dope motivates me off my knees.
But there are no dealers of hearts!
Stuck in the state of bowed worship for the thing I don't have.
My heart or yours.

Hole where hearts were.
Can I leave it exposed,
Can i distract myself with life in motion.
To let it heal on its own.
Time heals all wounds.
But can it grow a heart?
I pray me well, as I live out how I have chosen to exist, while waiting on my heart.