the bleeding heart

For those that read this post regularly or even semi-regularly, be for-warned.  This one is dark Very dark.

A good friend has given me a good book to read.  One that gives credence to the dark side of life.  Its value (the dark part) is greater than you might imagine.  Not so much because the dark is a good thing as it is to acknowledge the dark.  To draw strength from those things that we hide in the dark, learn from it, and use it to live a more full life.

For me, this time, it is a pouring out.  Ridding myself of some of my pain.  Draw from it if you can.  But be careful.  This is dark stuff.  Very thick.  Almost poison.  Be careful…  be VERY careful here.   What you may get a glimps of may be more than you can handle.

I’m not kidding…

the bleeding heart

No…  I’m not talking about the flower or even the type of person that has sympathy for another person that they have reason to believe has been allegedly persecuted.  I’m not talking about a physical heart that has been punctured or cut or otherwise damaged.

But I am talking about that emotional heart.  The heart inside each of us that, when hurt by someone we love, can feel as if it were bleeding out, loosing a battle with its own ability to survive.  That part of the person that has been given to someone in trust believing that it was going to be safe only to have it broken, stomped on, kicked, bruised, burned, sliced, cut, and otherwise ripped to shreds.  Some wounds are self inflicted as the heart rips itself apart trying to allow another to be free.  Pulling itself away from that other.  Tearing itself in the process, just so that the other can be happy.  These rips are the most gruesome of all wounds.

For a visual example:



The heart is still alive but it would seem as though only barely.  Every beat spews blood of the most precious kind.  The kind that gives birth to love and caring.  The kind that can save one’s soul from the bowels of debauchery.  The kind of blood that gives till there can be no more giving.  The kind that forgives.  The life nearly gone, this hear struggles to find strength for another beat.  Just one more.  Just another.  One more and again one more as it fervently attempts to live just long enough to gain some strenth.  Each beat an attempt to just keep going.

The heat of the blood being shed causes fires to boil within.  The boiling causes uncontrolled leaking from the eyes as the steam rises even if never seen by human kind.  The leaking goes on for minutes, days, and longer.  It goes on without being seen by others.  Much like the blood that is leaking from the open wounds.  The blood turns to acid in the stomach.  Such that it eats at even the desire to eat as that would just cause more pain.  The pain, almost unbearable, flares and flashes.  Visions appear in the mind of the good turned bad.  Of beautiful times lost.  Of time itself being lost forever.

They (again, sometimes I hate “they”) say that “time heals all wounds.”  I wonder.  Does it really?  One can only hope.  One can only try.  At least till that last drop falls.  Till that last beat.  Till there is nothing left to give.  Till the hope fades.  Not the physical.  Emotional, yeah even spiritual.

Ah.. the spiritual.   Aren’t you glad I mentioned that all you bible thumpers out there?  Maybe you are.  Maybe you aren’t.  Maybe you don’t really know for sure.  All I can say about the spiritual as it concerns this part of life, to me, the spirit dies a bit with each injury.  Can it survive?  That remains to be seen.  Some say yes.

I really like “Some” a whole lot better than “They.”  Some say there is hope.  Some say that there is healing.  Some say things so beautiful it is too good to be true or believe.  Still, you have to listen to some, sometimes.  Even if for no other reason than to gain just enough energy for that one more beat.

That last beat?  That last grasp at what could be, what should be, what has been shown in a couples life shown me from early childhood, what I’ve looked for all my life and have yet to find?  That moment when the bleeding stops because there is nothing left to bleed and no more blood is being created?

That It hasn’t come just yet though it feels as though it is very near.   How do I know?  Its the heat.  The heat is not as strong as it was.  The eyes feel cooler.  The heart feels almost as if it has a small chance of growing cold this time.  It’s as if a seed of cold has been planted in a wound and has started to grow.  Tentacles of the plant are attempting to take root.  Currently they are not able but the fight is on.  I can feel it.  Is it too late?  I’m not sure.  Only standing back and observing these things.

This battle is one that is or could be a last battle.  Should the seed of cold take root, that emotional heart will die.  A rock hard cold will take its place as the heat dissipates.

Where this plant takes the heart is a place where many already exist.  There is really no life in this plant.  How could that be?  It sucks the life out of all it touches once rooted fully. Once it takes hold, the emotions stop.  Nothing can get in and nothing could ever warm the solid icy heart.

I try to listen to the “some.”  Maybe even just the “one.”  Maybe there is a “one” out there.  I’m holding out hope.  One beat at a time.  One day at a time.  I have to keep trying.  I have to keep hoping.  At least till that last blood drop falls.

Did you notice the bandage?  Can it hold enough of the blood to allow the heart to heal before that seed takes root?  Time will tell.  Thing is, that bandage is bloody too.  It will have to be strong.  It will have to withstand a lot more blood just to hold that heart together.  The wounds are deep.  This struggle….  these last few beats….  could be all this heart has left.

This last word is just for someone I know that needs to hear this.


Note: I’m OK folks.  Really…  I’m OK.

ca·thar·sis [kuh-thahr-sis]  –noun, plural -ses[-seez]

1. the purging of the emotions or relieving of emotional tensions, esp. through certain kinds of art, as tragedy or music.
2. Medicine/Medical . purgation.
3. Psychiatry .
a. psychotherapy that encourages or permits the discharge of pent-up, socially unacceptable affects.
b. discharge of pent-up emotions so as to result in the alleviation of symptoms or the permanent relief of the condition.

Thanks go to MS for his sending me this definition.


Author: memman

Too much to tell. There is more than what is seen on the surface of any man. Some have more layers than others. I have many.

3 thoughts on “the bleeding heart”

  1. OK, right now things are really good with you… there is no need to be “quiet”.(an usmot comment) Saying what you feel is as important as someone listening to your thoughts. Sometimes they just need to be verbalized outwardly, without a filter, not just verbalized internally… Don’t worry be happy, share.. We do listen! and we do love you!!!

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