Thousands of strange faces, only
one charmer, ingrained pacemaker 
gone wrong, mechanical artifice 
that can’t love. 

Isn’t bradycardia.
It’s a gridlock. 
Lifeline’s dead.

This love elevated my cholesterol
while I waited for your call, it 
chose not to warn me I could fall
in love, who’s to blame? Pacemaker 
gone wrong, charmer, words empty,
the stretch of a coronary stent?

You did it, didn’t. 
It's just my guilt. 
No one is at fault.  

It’s the way our cells are built,
multiplicity, plurality, properly
eat, don’t strangulate the artery.

Forget the charmer! Do what's right.

But the heart
doesn’t forget, does what it does
even when told: 

Don't let him encrust
that pacemaker, he'll never 
be what love means to you.  

It will be, so I thought.

Pacemaker can't love but
it'll regulate my hope, I say 
as I fall into cardiac arrest.

No more falling in love, I said
but it was too late. 

Thousands of faces, but one charmer
who wanted to keep this mortal love
to himself until either I was gone 
or I had learned how to truly love.

As only truth can derail a charm 
so strong. As only an honest care
toward ourselves can derail such 
a mad enabler who only has a want: 
to be utterly loved. How dare he
if love fair he doesn't care to be!
The medical terms can be visualized here thanks to
Signature Lina Ru