Writer. Fighter. Lover. Dreamer. The doctor's say she's generally functional.

Monday, May 24, 2010

And still he wondered why

Her heart was worn. And it was worn on her sleeve.
The rain continued to splatter on the sidewalk.
He heard a new noise.
It interrupted his comfort.
His eyes suddenly aware; his soul.

Her heart was shattered; its location was conducive for shattering.
That was why it was always broken.
That was why it was always bruised.
She couldn't bear to keep it there.
But it would not fit anywhere else.

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