what sleeps in your heart,
is the truth of it
curled up like a cat,
soft and purring
but indifferent
what sleeps in your heart
could it be that trapped voice,
silenced
like one drowning
under ice
who sees the surface
but is unable to break through,
mouth full of water
on the sharp thin verge of surrender
to the overwhelming
weight of cold
what sleeps in your heart
is who you really are
and if you don’t see that
you may sink to the bottom
alone
and never wake up
