Heart.

“You feel too much

With this, mire

She says with

Three taps over her heart

“Whatever, you’re wrong”

I close my eyes and hide away

Underneath my blanket

If it weren’t for the

Cry that’s stuck in my throat

I’d tell my mother she’d be right

If it were yesterday

When I gave out my heart

Like a red handkerchief  

It was pulled and wrung

And trampled and mishandled

But today, my mother is wrong

Because my heart

Is no longer much of a heart

Like the ones I’d write about

It is just a misshapen organ

That does not have

A single beat to give

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s