Hearts break once
or twice at a time.
Even though she
didn’t quite know.
The feelings inside aren’t
to be thrown away,
but are to be left on the
sidewalk sobbing all night.
It’s okay though...
she had a heart less
fragile than mine.
Shreds of love fall upon
the floor as she weeps,
yet she has no more
of the same feelings for me.
Yes I still have it,
of what you may ask,
but of a broken heart
that sits alone on a window sill
still crying while torn apart.
She had no more of the same regards
for me or any of my friends.
But she leaves a note of crying sorrow
that lasts until the end.
 
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