Monday, June 13, 2011

Poem #470

Jar of Hearts
A priceless glass bottle which holds your loves,
The hearts you collect on your wide rampage.
Each one glows bright as you first place it in,
But soon, that beauty and feeling is drained,
Until each delicate piece turns a drab gray.
They all symbolize a moment of pure enticement,
A promise too wonderful to let slip through ones fingers.
You think you have all the right words, the perfect moves,
To make this horrible trade of yours be alright,
Never thinking of what you’re doing to anyone but yourself.
“It makes you happy; that’s what matters,” you always say,
Solely to justify you actions to your mind and soul,
You run through the world, leaving destruction in your wake,
Ripping wide, black holes into our chests,
Ones which suck all feeling until all is numb and cold.
You tear apart the meaning of love, turning it bitter,
As you fill your jar with hearts which can never escape,
And break from the sadness and confinement of their jail.

No comments:

Post a Comment