You keep a collection of broken hearts
I know because I've seen them
You keep them behind the recycling bin
In the little coat closet
Beside the hearth
I've seen the threads and needles
I've seen the stitches, every one
Dripping with red
As they try to fix the unfixable
I've seen the blood staining your coat hems
I've seen the darkness in your eyes
When you look at me
Is that where my heart is destined
To beat its final times
Behind a recycling bin
And covered by winter coats
Do me better than them, I tell you
But I know that you won't
YOU ARE READING
Misty (a collection of my poetry) {{COMPLETE}}
PoetryA road trip of poetry, I guess. Care to come along? Highest rank: 267 in poetry Read my third poetry book, "hush." I have high hopes for it. Read my first poetry book, "where the bluebirds aren't." (Or don't, it's old and rather embarrassing). ⚠️...
