It is time

She knew when she looked out of the window that day
The frost had glaced the leaves and flowers making a perfect portrait of late fall
And she knew that her heart had been left outside that night suffering the same fate

It was time, she thought
And the whispers of a million women before her reached her sad soul tinting it with the colours of a new start

My heart

And as the heart opens the mud starts pouring out
Seal it tight before it bursts
Into puddles of sandy, greasy dirt
And black vines crawling and clenching and killing

It looked so bright and pounding and red!
Now it appears my heart was only an illusion of happiness
And I have to close it before it cracks open
And spills its insides into my veins and poisons me into depression