She never thought a heart could truly break
or that the shards could be so very sharp
that efforts to rebuild that cherished spark
could deepen and intensify the ache.
The minor wounds that life can throw our way
are treatable and soon heal on their own
until the day they cast that final stone
that pierces flesh and blood and tends to stay.
She’s lucky to have had so many years
when life was warmed by such a loving light
and will not share the burden of her plight
with one that she has always held so dear.
A heart can truly break when in the end
the love that once was real becomes pretend.
Broken
25 Sunday Nov 2012
Posted Poetry
in
Bob said:
Sounds very sad my friend, my email and ears are always open if you need someone to talk to.
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Shirley Allard said:
Just an observation. I’m fine but thanks for the offer. 🙂
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Miguel Raneses said:
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