There is a heart. There is a heart. More than just that little black marble in the wrinkled sandwich bag.
Pull these thoughts. Suck this mind down into the bucket of emotion. Funny thing about a barrel of laughs, when the party quiets down, it makes for lonely company.
Everyone's asleep including the cat. Wrapped in a blanket of purpose, the poet sets her head on fire, mistaking it for a candle wick.
Works out well. With embers where the face was, she can finally sleep.