Blood pumps through the valves and veins,
Sustaining life.
We all have one,
Although it's hard to fathom in some.
People come.
People leave.
People live.
People die.
They touch your heart,
They take a piece.
You touch them when they are alive,
And then they leave, but you survive.
You let them in.
You let them out.
And when they're gone,
You scream and shout.
You beat on their heart,
In a rage,
To try to make it pump again.
The sweat and tears run down your face.
A spot of blood?
May be a trace.
Pump, damn it!
Live my friend!
This can't really be the end!
Your mouth meets theirs,
A breath of life.
But emptiness you feel inside.
And silence comes way too soon.
It's over, and oh so hard to fathom.
Functional pieces,
Working together.
But once they stop,
Gone forever.
The pieces just can't be replaced.
By words, or deeds, or saving grace.
Once gone they just can't be retrieved,
You just have to let them be.
But then you ask,
What's left of me?
You give,
You give,
You love,
You live,
You die.
A sign of life, or so it seems.
Until you've lost your hopes and dreams.
Dedicated to a friend who gave up living on
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