You store my heart,
From within my chest,
Ripped it out,
From beneath my breast.
***
Never knowing,
What you had done,
Had doomed my heart,
From then on.
***
I struggle to stop,
And let you go,
Because you are the only thing,
I now know.
***
But like a fallowed field,
Or a cold winter meadow,
My heart has started to clog up,
And I must let you go.
***
Don’t forget me,
When you think,
Look back fondly,
From time to time.
***
I’ll miss you,
My loving friend,
Even if you,
Were never truly mine.
Author: The Pesky Poet
Never assume that you are no good at what you love as if you love it enough you will make it better. Take that form a dyslexic who was told they would never be able to write with any quality.
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