An Undarned Heart
What do you lose (or can be lost)
as innocence slides, slips, slakes
the thirst for experience?
The ingenuous corners of the mind are
(or must be) a memory, a vacated ignorance
— true innocence cannot suspect
The loss, that new longing, is in the flotsam
of not having intimated the pain, the truth
in what you didn’t (or should not) avoid
Is a blank slate a construct, stitched
from tears, scars, lessons learned?
An undarned heart has no contrast fluid
that speaks of what it has been (or will be)
• • •