She has a black heart drawn across her wrist. Maybe her own heart. Or her dad’s heart, broken after the divorce. Or the baby’s heart since he was born without one beating. A dead thing inside his chest. Or her friend’s heart that always had another heart beating with hers and hands grasping at the other. Maybe it’s black to represent the cancer seeping into the blood. Or the pain of loss. Or the night on which it was drawn. Perhaps it was just the color of the ink of the pen her hopeless hand reached first. And a heart was the first thing to come to mind as she tried to avoid the poison.
HirschikissThis poem gives you something to really think about. Keep writing :)
Lexie96This is truly a beautiful piece of work. I love it, the truth and depth in it is stunning. We all judge people because we don't understand them, and we just assume they are freaks because of things that they do, but we never really take the time to find out anything about them. We never really consider what's happening behind closed doors, at least most of us don't. If you could check out my poem, Sowing Poppies, I would be so honored, you are an amazing writer.
Thank you so much! Sowing Poppies was so amazing I was so moved when I read it. You are a magnificent writer!
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