The Heart was made to be Broken

We tip-toe over words
lest they do more harm than good
step light across each sentence
as a dance of clouds.

Beyond the strings
beyond the lines
beyond eveything
in the heart of a gypsy
lies undying love
(so soft are silk and tears)

We reach
but, find only air
there’s nothing else
to have
to hold.

So sad to say goodbye
yet,
it sometimes has to be said.

So sad to say goodbye
when speaking the language of love
for that is when the soul cries
upon really feeling that moment.
That moment of total separation
from the being, whole.

Ah, silence
How I yearn for you when
you’re not here
and yet, how I hate too much
of your company.

Sometimes life spreads us
upon a rack.
A cynical torture of sorts.
Stretching us to see how much
we can take before we break
and yet,
we rise so much stronger
for having survived it all.

A muse
in my room
in the afternoon
as I go about the mundane.

But
it might all matter to someone
somewhere with whom I connect
in various ways and maybe
it’ll mean so much
more to them
than I.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Thinking about how differently people cope with broken hearts, I found this pic on Google when I was looking for an image to go with this that I had written yesterday and have discovered this morning that it is a quote by none other than Oscar Wilde and thought, how apt.

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