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)