What if the heart really doesn't know..
Before I continue this, I'll tell you what inspired this poem
The saying(s) go(es) something like;
"The heart knows what it wants.";
Or; "Always follow your heart."
Well, back to the poem, just hear me out though
What if the heart really doesn't know what it wants?
What if we "think" we know what it wants by, in fact, manipulation?
I mean come on, think about it, our minds also have a need for dictation
and our mind's can't help but crave a life full of harmful justifications
So what if the heart is fooled into thinking it knows what it wants?
I seriously cannot be the only person with these kinds of thoughts?
I  thought I knew what it was supposed to be like, to be loved
But little did I know, that soon, the honeymoon would be over;
And the bond we once shared, we once had, became weak, and unplugged
What if my heart "thought" I "felt" like I was being loved?
Because I'm down as low as I can be or get;
So why does this person I deeply love so much, continue to push and shove?
What if my heart doesn't know
What if my heart doesn't even have a clue? So please tell me brain;
What in the hell am I supposed to do?!
They say to listen to the heart, but um, I can't just do that
For my heart only feels, and my brain does the real, true thinking
So when we say "I Love You" are we really feeling it like we think we do?
Or are we really thinking it like we feel we do?
A couple phrases causes me to believe;
that we are indeed manipulated by our brains;
Because the yin yang is real, it's literally in black and white;
Our hearts are constantly being tricked,
And our minds are playing games that sometimes come too quick
That's why we get hurt, not only do "hurt people, hurt people"
But that's why our hearts are so naive, because our minds are too slick
You can't have good without a little bit of bad; and
You can't have bad without a little bit of good
Just like this(ese) one(s) goes(go) something along the line(s) of this(ese);
And "just because you can, doesn't mean you should"
I just feel like I finally discovered something about the heart;
Could it be our minds running the entire circus show from the start?
Like maybe I figured out the real meaning;
of the connection between the two?
There's a message in this poem,
a reality between the heart and mind
Or maybe it's just my way of thinking,
and maybe I really am just one of a kind?
Maybe I'm just finally going insane and simply overthinking;
Or maybe I'm just finally losing a battle with a ship that's sinking
Because you can't have happiness, without a little bit of pain
and you can't lose, if you don't ever intend to gain
So my question(s) is(are);
What if the heart doesn't really know?
What if the heart really doesn't know what it wants?
and what if the heart simply never even had an actual clue?
What if the heart has always been manipulated into believing what to do?
and it's always been our brains that cause the;
mind to flaunt meaningless taunts?
So this is my outlook on why I believe our hearts are;
Manipulated by, in fact, our brain.

P.S.
Does anyone else ever think about stuff like this?
Does anyone else kinda wonder and feel the same?
So what if this really has some twisted kind of meaning?
Or am I thinking way too far out of the box and this is just decieving?


Stephanie A. Ludwig
04/21/2025

Divide and conquer, deride compassion.
Indulgent resentment exposes the actions.
Wolves dressed as lambs, lambs as wolves.
Nobody believes in good ideas.

Craft deceptive reasons behind the words of love.
Stuff your victims into the dark, cramped box.
Do your work quietly, with discipline.

When the red moon rises
the energy of broken breaths
strengthens your existence.
Illusory peace as a weary sigh.

You laugh
when they try to unmask your behavior
Whispering: just another pathetic attempt
of hysterical souls, not pragmatic solutions.

Different actors, new stages.
You’re always the same,
Irresistible.

While thoughts escape
Like water evaporates
There is enough moisture
For my massaging palms,
To grip the pink putty,
And shape your perception.

If there is art in sculpting
The very nature you see statues
Staring back in awe of your philosophic tangents
Wrapped upon the senses, as you can taste words
And hear flavors, while seeing sound
As I play maestro.

Does the soothing touch
Pinching and pulling clay
Release enough dopamine
To unfurl those brows
And turn a frown into a grin?

Can you feel the synapses fire like pistons
Grafting new sensation
Causing involuntary motion to feel like an ordinary choice?
Does the gift I’ve given in the foresight of what was
Now seems so prolific as I change it,
Sculpting you, molding every secret
From you, like god, malleable mud
Into a fire kiln vase -
And break you just the same as terra-cotta

Your sickening words
Are a bitter ambrosia.

Your compliments insult
As piercing as a dagger.

You make me bleed
Divine drops of gold.

You made me holy
To **** my mortality.

I am not ready to die
And be cursed by life.

I am unwilling to serve
Under your command.

I was willing to once,
But now I have learned.

I was a foolish mortal soul
Who was tricked by a god.

It feels like you’re too close to me.
You push everyone else away from me.
They try to move closer,
But you shove yourself between them and I.
Cramped into the space of one person,
We push against each other constantly.
You push me down, smaller. I push back.
Tightly confined, I’m trapped with you, by you.

For you, a hand-made mother’s day card
For you, curiosity about your hobbies and interests
For you, endless forgiveness and grace
For you, tender, loving care during dark moments
For me? Abuse, trauma, and manipulation