It gets dark and it gets tough.
I see my self in the mirror,
There are no more songs to sing along to.
There is a bed,
There is my life,
Difficult to stomach,
The only chance I've got.

“Head, Heart” by Lydia Davis

Heart weeps.
Head tries to help heart.
Head tells heart how it is, again:
You will lose the ones you love. They will all go. But even the earth will go, someday.
Heart feels better, then.
But the words of head do not remain long in the ears of heart.
Heart is so new to this.
I want them back, says heart.
Head is all heart has.
Help, head. Help heart.