Sunday, December 9, 2007

Paper Heart

Is my heart so frail
As paper?
Is it stapled to my sleeve
Displayed for all to see?
Is it so easily ripped,
Torn, shredded?
It's been written on
For the ink bleeds through
But the words are hardly discernable
Many are crossed out
Never meant to say that
But what if it runs out of space
To write?
Do I go get another one?
Or am I stuck with this one
With bleeding ink and crossed out words?

2 comments:

Frederick said...

This poem rocks! Paper reference.... Brilliant.

"Is is stapled to my sleeve" Is my favorite line.

Although not to make light on you excellent work, what do you think about "Is it stapled to my chest" since your heart is near your chest. But, I have a tendency to over-think sometimes.

Vyolet said...

Heart on your sleeve, I love it. I love the work, not the pain behind it obviously.
Your heart will never run out of space, no matter the ache packed inside. Take it from one who knows.

Your heart will always contain the space for hope as well.
Vyolet

Key/Legend

word = speaking/singing
(word) = whispering/echo
[word] = stern voice/screaming