• The clink and clatter of gears grinding,

    and the twang and twaddle of springs winding,

    are all one can hear echo when these lips speak of love.

    That ageless cliche', that brings you joy and dismay, has fluttered and flown; missing; gone away.

    To say all that remains is a broken heart, is a lie and unfortunate to assume. But I promise you that it is well wound and in tune.

    When a heart breaks; one must repair and restore.

    Akin to all construct, some times you need less or more.

    Repeatedly I repaired it; down to the core.

    Now I don't even know what it is there for.

    I replaced the weakness and added a few cogs;

    I revoked my ignorance by revoking my gods;

    I even bought new screws to prevent the nods.

    After the building and the fix,

    after the splicing and the tricks,

    and after hammering out the clots and the nicks.

    I now find no heart which between my ribs are betwixt.

    A clutter of gears, metal and regret; is all one can hope to beget; when pursuing the emotions I tried so hard to forget.

    It serves me well, this cold shell in the shape of a heart.

    It even gets warm when I see a work of art.

    But never will it grind when remembering the start.

    The start of it all; my truest and most loved one.

    The woman I wanted to embrace and kiss under the sun.

    But her love had gone, and she left me with none.

    Twas then I decided with emotions I was done.

    I am no longer a gentleman by any definition,

    for I cannot feel without proper condition.

    Fear not for this was my own volition,

    now all you must do; is listen.

    Speaking from the cogs and turbines in my soul,

    I warn you; never let yourself be alone.

    Loneliness is no stranger; this is known,

    but unlike me you are likely to turn to stone.

    Cherish those around; keep them in your grip.

    Sorrowful tears are all that should make you slip,

    But you will find those who can catch when you trip,

    and quell the quivering of your lip.

    A mechanical heart is one that is efficient and clean, created in place of emotions damaged by the mean. Like stone it is cold, hard, and of the cynic design; But unlike stone it is unique and all mine. Some day it could be a gift for some I care for, but I'll be damned if it is toyed again by some whore.

    /- Sela Cavre 2012