Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Kill the heart that threatens the snugness of my solitude.
Only time will tell.
 
  Twitching like the earth tremor, I grab hold of the heart and tug. They wanted it to scream, thrash about, lose control of itself. They wanted it to say something in response. Desperate, muddled, struggling in a love trap, shrill, as though it was stolen. As though rubies and diamonds were heard, the sound of sorrow. And you who was crying. And it’s not difficult to look sad. All you have to do is to defy honesty, to yell within, to yell away, sweetheart.
 
  Folding in silence.
 
  A purity I did not fear. And then the seduction became extremely rough. And I took a couple of steps backwards. It was purple. It was straining. Through her, helping her. To free my heart from the ravishing lunatic that stretches further than the warmth that we can draw or write about. We know no more about the story or the motives needed to make ourselves heard above the sound of breaking hearts. I’m not so weak. I feel I could keel over. The whole world knows why. It’s not because of the daze, it’s because of the compassion. Do you hear, compassion?
 
  About who? Who are you?
 
  It passed back and forth, risked moments of truth. One moment her beauty was grand, sensitive and deep, the next it was twitching, frazzled, toppling before the sister of jealousy. And the other made a promise, to the convulsions that still want to make me believe unshakably.