Wasted Hearts

There's a kind of blood,

You'll only find when you've loved and feared all at once,

It's thick red blood,

Boiled to black charred remains.

It clogs everything,

It fills you everywhere,

then it stops your heart.

It stops it for good.

All black and gooey, and that's it.

But if you're strong enough,

you lay there with the loved and fear,

and you don't let it boil, you let it settle.

And it becomes soft and forgiving.

Two hearts must decide what they have the capacity for,

What they will make room for within eachoher.

To die with their fears,

or fight for their loves.