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my heart
 
my heart, a wound thatís healed into a scar
much stronger, less forgiving, and innured
eyes closed lest they perhaps should spy a star
ears deaf to melodies that once i heard

a crystal ~ not the glass ~ but like the stone
transparent still, unbreakable almost
it matters not whoís with me, all alone
not dead like those iíve lost, and yet a ghost

nor do i miss the daunting reveries
of closenesses, unbearable and kind
the robbery of all but memories
that linger timidly within my mind

a statue in the garden overgrown
my heart, a thornless rose but turned to stone

By moon spirit

© 2016 moon spirit (All rights reserved)

 

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