Brick Hearts Don't Tick

Brick Hearts Don’t Tick

Come here my lovely heartbreaker.
I have candy…

He can smell my fear, but what is it?
Watch a brick wall fall down.
Tick, tick…The clock.

I can hear the clock ticking.
The second hand fast forwards like my progression.
Those used to be pretty bricks…
When they formed a wall, I’ve always thought.

Hm.
My heart is beating so fast.
Can you hear that? No inhibitions though.
Not that I detect on the beeping line of life anyway.

Why is he looking at me?
What are you looking at?
Give me back my clock.
I rebuilt the bricks that I’m proud of.
See, Mommy? No hands.

What is he waiting for?
So, I stole my clock back.
I need to rewind progression.
As fast, as fast, as fast as I can.

The bricks look so pretty when they cover your face.
You sound so ugly when you beat them to pieces.
The bricks look so dead when they all fall down.
There they go again.

What time is it?
“I don’t know”, he says, as he spins the hands clockwise.
Brick wall, come back.
I love you, love you more than him.
There it is. I knew you’d come back.

No clock now.
My heart isn’t beating again.
That’s such a lovely sound.
But watch a brick wall fall all the way down.
Tick, tick…The clock.

Damnit.
My heart is racing again, I feel it sweating from the inside.
The pretty pieces lie on the floor three times now.
I guess your face is kind of pretty when my wall…
I mean, when the wall is splayed on the floor.

“Look at the clock”, he says.
Round and round it goes.
My heart pumps faster as he spins the hands with his own.
But I watch their hands.

“Don’t watch the clock”, he demands.
I observe the brick pieces around my feet.
“Look at me…LOOK AT ME!”
He pulls my face and I see his eyes.

Oh, my heart hurts.
I clutch my chest from his artificial promises.
Falling to my knees, I touch the bricks for the first time.
The last time…This must be what last time feels like.
…Isn’t it?

Frantically building my pretty bricks back.
Up, up high…Here we go.
This is what last time feels like.
…Isn’t it?

Bye, bye heartbeat.
And all the pretty bricks…
All the pretty bricks are broken down by his hands.
His hands that guided me, that threw the clock that broke my wall…
I mean, the wall.

Falling to my knees, my heart beats no more.
Blood is non existent, but bricks are.
A broken clock lies on the floor…
I see it lying on the floor next to his knock off shoes.

My lovely heartbreaker.
He must see I never had the candy.
I don’t hear anything.
“Silly, girl…Brick hearts don’t tick.”

Violetta Alexis-Copyright 2010

Reviews

[joshua deathdealer]

Wow nice construction and serious depth. The ending is great as well.
Btw I really liked your "about" me section of your profile Excellent writing...xx

[Pax Analog]

Stunning piece of work. To love one's fortress components more than the inevitable siege-r. The eeriness of going through nervy mating dance motions while still heart dead and tick-less as a brick. It summons contemplation unto far future flux.