</3 The Shattered Heart </3

January 25, 2012
He painted for joy,
he colored for play.
He sculpted for pride,
but graffiti for love.
For his dear,
was a jack of trades.
He drew himself,
running off the ground,
in the everglades.
She has a passion from games,
he kind of felt the same.
He finds her giggling behind a tree,
but before she fled.
Swooped her off her feet.
You are all I need,
that was all he said.
As they part,
the artist flew with hearts.
He made a harmonic heart bubble,
ballroom dancing inside with huddle.
He took the grayest of clays,
soon with a glaze.
He kept it from yesterday,
loves not easy in his world.
Next day they met,
after wine and regrets.
Color on the most depressing walls,
it was his affection I recall.
Lilies, lavenders, and roses,
finished with a kiss.
Soon after they realized,
they ran with a fervor.
With a fallen paint brush,
dipped in black...
That morning,
a bit hungover...
She woke him up,
shattered the heart.
While looking in his eyes,
looking in his heart...
You fool,
she exclaimed.
I go where the party reigns,
are you serious or insane.
Leaving with breaking every,
heart she'd seen.
The artist wept,
falling into the morality.
X's were on the remains of everything.
The Shattered Heart,
glued thousandth,
by thousandth.
With two thin,
intersecting lines.
His new work,
he understood everything.
Love is not fair,
nor blissful.
The last thing he had to do,
would set this straight.
The cherished graffiti he saw,
was still there one in all.
She walked out her bar,
to see the flowers blackened.
The heart,
had stitches,
stabbing needles,
and a tear at the bottom.
With two Gothic angels holding a sign,
“There is no better way to say I love you...
Like giving you,
what you gave me...”

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