You take my heart and rip it out

you stamp it in the ground,

then toss it in the gutter

where it cannot be found.

You savage, you shred it,

until you see the blood.

You cast it off and kill it

and grind it in the mud.

I pick it up and wrap it,

I’ll take it home to keep,

for I will not be needing it,

I’ll bury it and weep.

My poor heart it is broken

You’ve left it all in tatters.

You walk away and leave it,

To you it doesn’t matter.

© Broken Heart 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Black Heart (Photo credit: kreg.steppe)