No windows in this room, Yet there is a shadow that has fallen over this bleeding heart. It has fallen to sweep me off this tattered ground That i have memorized with my hands. Each crack has been a tailored picture of this life. I bleed these memoirs these fading pictures of a shell that used to be. Once existing as an impression, but the fire never took. Imperfection within the due process But there you are enveloping me again. Every touch, a feeling of saturation, A restructuring of a vessel going to the wheel. This has reversed the depletion of a hemorrhaging heart. Pressing back to something beautiful