Your Broken Heart

September 8, 2009
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Sat on a stack of bibles
And swore
You loved me

One day I granted
You a kiss
And the next

Day; a rainy night
I gave you as many
As we wanted

Blissfully, it seemed
The pitter-patter
Of the rain

Like it was dropped
From the sky in that perfect way
Just for use

On that night.

I’m sorry I broke
That which lay, treasured
In my hands

You gave me
Your heart.

But it doesn’t matter
You are happy without
The kisses
That you once
Longed for.

And that’s good.

I suppose

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