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
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.

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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Passing strangers in the street
I catch their eye and share eternity
in that instantaneous connection.
Somehow I can feel them
behind the facade.
I’m altogether fascinated and scared
because I too, know the fear
they do not reveal.

Well heeled or, homeless
each give out the same aura.
A wave of despair
an isolated sadness.

Amid a sea of souls
am I the odd one out
as I try to find my own way
through a maze of hearts
which ache
yet show smiles to the world
they know and believe is
their reality.


© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

There are often times when I pass strangers in the street, both well-to-do or, downtrodden (there’s no distinction) that I have a sudden overwhelming rush of their emotions wash right over me. Happy or sad, the sense of their emotions is truly overwhelming. It’s as if in an instant flash I can feel their deepest sadness or fear, because I feel it too.
Crazy I know, but some friends tell me it is empathy. I just accept that it is what it is and, as I feel it coming to me from them I try to catch their eye and maybe give back a positive light in my thoughts as I do.

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