Heart, Is My Name

A Poem by Cyrano

I lay in wait.
In a forest.
I am fooled,
By the eyes.
For they can only see beauty from appearance,
And not of the heart.

I love her,
So, who are these others that I see?
Clones,
Duplicates,
No, she is unique.
She cannot be copied,
she is one of a kind.
I will lie in wait.

As I lay here,
Beating, always, beating,
I am empty.
I am full of blood.
So, why is something, amiss?
Please,
It is unbearable.
Yet,
I bear it.

This is the only option,
I have reached an ultimatum,
Endure.
I will lay here,
And pump, as intended.
I have no other purpose.
I will, solely, act as a turbine,
A machine,
A tool,
To be used,
Forever.
'Til death,
Do I part.