A Production of the Heart


It beats, momentarily it beats.

Quieten the mind.

You try.

But the mark has settled in.

Memories of moments rush through, within.

Dopamine that once flowed so freely, now rarely to be seen.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Your hormones diminished.

The warmth of wonderment it isn’t enough,

to override the damage of one’s wondering thought.

I see it, I do.

That smile so clear.


A framed picture.

Yes.. There it is.

The sunny days, they are lit.

The aroma of romance, it fits.

Conjuring up every loving moment.

From the gifts, the meals, to the sex and the appeals.

The afterlife of love for one’s life.

An appreciation,

for your taste.

Within every kiss, every moan, and every note you have ever played.

It slumbers,

Gently, upon my lips.

An intensity like none other.

It excels.

It expands.

And yet it settles.

The sadness of these passing moments,

Like the flower blossom, in all its prime.

Now lost it’s pettles, somewhere in time.

The captured dream,

Now purged to our brains.

We demand,

but just a wish.

An infinite of wishes,

To hold one key.

A still moment,

To an Infinite Love.

That beats, momentarily, that beats.

– A Production of The Heart
By Claudio Conte

A CDYProduction