Broken hearts
I am gathering up my broken hearts,
The scattered pieces, the torn-apart.
I gave them away with an open hand,
To those who could never understand.
I thought they were treasures, precious and true,
But they were just moments that quickly withdrew,
Swept to the side at the end of the day,
Left to ruin, thrown away.
But the hands that gave them can bring them home,
No longer left in the cold alone.
I’m picking them up from where they fell,
With stories only the scars can tell—
Of a heart reclaimed, of a spirit grown,
Never again to be carelessly thrown.
They are mine to keep, they are mine to mend,
Where the ruin stops, and the healing begins.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
