Irregular

My heart beats like the sound of a drum

steady,

certain, echoing deep,

a rhythm carved into my soul,

a pulse that refuses to sleep.

But some days the cadence falters,

stumbling over old hurt and fear,

skipping the notes it used to trust

when your voice was still near.

It pounds with a warrior’s thunder,

then trembles with a fragile sway

a song that wants to be fearless

but breaks in the quietest way.

Each heartbeat fights to stay even,

to march in a smooth, steady line,

yet the bruises you left on my spirit

still alter the tempo of mine.

So I move with this irregular music,

this drum that struggles to stay strong

a heart that’s battered but beating,

still learning its own true song