April’s Heart

There is a burn mark where her heart would've been.
There is no connection to it.
She’s been up, down, around, and through and can't seem to rekindle the flame that was once there.
A constant banging on her chest to prove vacancy.
April’s heart has dissipated like the bloom of flowers that eliminated winter's wrath.
April’s heart is like an empty lot and though the birds feast on the bread crumbs left in her lot, nobody comes.
Not only is the fire in April’s heart dead but everything else about her is too.
Her eyes have sunken into her skull when people look into them only a reflection of the world is cast.
Her hair hangs off her scalp like the last leaf of autumn before winter hits.
Her skin is a muted brown, it has no shine, it is like a gray wash in a painting.
Her body is like a shrine that is hidden away in covenants of empty kingdoms.
Her brain never got to know her heart.
Her brain has to act like a heart or what April’s heart would be if she still had it.