I put my heart to rest in your palms.
My hands are threaded with trust whilst my mind is threaded with angst.
My heart being so vulnerable, pounds on with strength regardless of it's weak structure.
I plead for you to be merciful with my gift for the others were not.
However, It feels as though it falters when you speak my name.
Have you found the heart stings?
Have you wormed your way inside?
Perhaps this is so and for that, I am fearful.
Like an ancient harp, some strings have fractured with age.
Others have been pulled cruelly in hopes of a sweet song.
Time has chipped away at the frame and it's warm golden paint.
And with the missing strings, a song becomes uncertain.
A melody unfinished and room completely noiseless.
With patience and with care, the harp can be renewed.
Along with my heart that you carry so dearly.
YOU ARE READING
I Have More Than A Perfect Figure
Poetry"Strength, love, suffering and healing. The gritty surface of reality written down on every page. This is a heartfelt message to everyone who can relate to the tragedy of life experiences, trauma and relationships."
