i carry your love with me
in the little pocket of my heart

break me

d

o

w

n

replace these tears with something real

or keep your distance

these ears don't listen
as well as they used to

this tired heart doesn't love

although it wants to

chipped nails exist on shaky fingers

that scramble to pick the pieces up

and shove them in her pocket

but her pocket is only as big
as her frail, worn out soul that
scrapes along the ground behind her