Do Not Fold, Spindle or Mutilate

Posted: May 3, 2010 in My Poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

You are careless with what matters:
crush it under black shoes,
pointed like a witch’s hat.
Your heart is just as black
as any other midnight.

Mine is torn again.
By now, it doesn’t resemble
a heart at all.

It’s a flat, blank valentine
on which no names are written:
no “from”, no “to”.
It is no one’s heart.

Folded, spindled, mutilated, like
a paper snowflake;
pieces missing here and there.
It’s an easy thing to tear.

But you didn’t really care.

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Comments
  1. Mark Byrd says:

    May GOD Bless!!! Mark

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