This here rain drip
cleans the wounds of hearts so tender
through waves and whimsies, and intensities
life speaks in tongues of illusion
– the ones tender hearts are prone to believe.
Come back, then
pieces bleeding at the seams
away from the mind and the body
to be replaced and / or forgotten
sweet, surrender then
to the wounds that tender hearts yearn to believe in
ground to dust, where pieces combine
the rain drip-dripping through vessels that carry
the one tender hearts ought to believe in.