For Savannah

October 2, 2011
I wear my heart on my sleeve.
Every thin, healing cut
Is evidence of yet another broken heart.
The maroon blotches
Stained into the sleeves of my favorite shirts
Are residue from a lifetime of disappointments.
The salty tears, wiped away
Into the same soft sleeves,
Remain embedded even after the washer
Attempts to beat them out.
I wear my heart on my sleeves,
As plain as day.





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