Thinking of you,
My Heart and Head
Battle each other with the black, unbridled passion
Of arch foes;

One clothed in blue,
The other, gray;
They march onto the green battlefield of my thoughts,
Their faces set in stone
As they approach impending doom.

Steadying themselves,
They brace for battle,
Not with bullets,
Oh, no, nothing so mundane.
Words, crimson and hateful,
Spiteful and biting,
Are the weapon of choice in this face-off.

The long and the short of this battle is this:
The Mind, though superior in intellect, lacks emotion
And with this deficit,
The Heart’s logic overloaded him,
Causing him to fall in utter despair.

He has been vanquished.

Lying in a crumpled, pitiful heap on the lush, green battlefield,
The pallid, gray mask of death on his countenance,
The Mind feebly whispers to the Heart,
“You…win…”


And with that, he expires.


All reason has fled;
The golden sun has left the sky
And chaotic emotions rule.

The Heart struts around the surrounding battlefield,
Now growing dark with eminent night,
Festooned in the royal purple robes of victory.

I myself become gray and pallid;
Realizing what I must do,
I begin to weep morose, black tears.