Broken

Why do people hold their hearts in their hands
handing them willingly over
to those who cannot be trusted.
Why do they toss their hearts in the air, playing with them?
The heart is fragile.
The heart is easily broken, sweet.
Every time you enter into the demesne known by some as suffering
sorrow
regret
pain
A piece of your heart is chipped away by dead cold picks.
And scattered away on the wind, dissolving into ethereal sorrow that exhales into the world.
It is true, sweet, that scars heel over.
But do they ever return to their former state?
Or do they remain halved
unwhole
scathed
touched
broken.


my image

~ K A T H R Y N








4 comments:

  1. I love this, Kathryn! Amazing job!:)
    -Emma-

    ReplyDelete
  2. Amazingly written....ahhhhhhh!

    ReplyDelete

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~Kathryn

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