Remove a Portion from the Cross-Section of the Earth’s Crust, and It Looks Like A Heart
If life really were a box of chocolates,
Then the earth would be a golf-sized chocolate rum ball
And love would be a quarter cup and two tablespoons worth of dark rum
It shall induce a spasmodic heartbeat and tingling in your skin, even as you face difficulty breathing
And when it all draws to a close,
That tightness in your chest you had grown so accustomed to, it shall relieve itself
An ocean of withheld emotion spills at the expulsion of this ruby-coloured core
And then, we realize the real tragedy-
The reds and blues belong together.
You see, love gone wrong could never be a downward spiral
Like it’s so very often made to seem
At best, it’s a bite-sized cross section conjugated by concentric circles Composed of inward anguish, outward angst and transition zones
Playing apprentice to quixotic hope.
If the world had only two kinds of people -chopped raisins and dessicated coconuts
And each made a pledge to be the others entangled particle forever
There may come a point when pitted dates (conspired confectionery) will do them no good
So, they must part.
How, you ask, when one’s subsistence is so profoundly entrenched in the others?
Bifurcate the two, until there isn’t a crumb of affiliation between either.
What if it gets messy? It most definitely will be, but there’s nothing chocolate sprinkles can’t fix.
If this is to be the last tryst between chocolate and cream,
Let it be sweetened, condensed into a fine, formidable truffle on its own regard
But the reds and blues, they belong together.