Heart Burn

Hey guys, i’m not dead! I wrote a poem and everything. Read on for delicious teen angst. -.-

Heartburn

You are bad for my heart.

Premature ventricular contractions,

Unexpected palpitations,

Chronic pain that no

Clinically proven prescription can palliate,

With prolonged burning from passions

Long since passed.

All you’d left was a hole,

And I was defective.

Recovery is slow,

I’m still clogged with thoughts of you,

But the heart is a muscle

So I’m working it out to be stronger.

Remission lulls into complacency,

So relapse is swift, acutely reminding

That chronic pain is persistent.

It is a return of the now-expected,

Unexpected palpitations:

You are still bad for my heart.

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