Such A Disappointment

Disappointments come in all shapes and sizes.
The little ones you can shrug off.
It's the big ones that leave a hole in your heart,
a jagged cut that scars the soul.

"She's not coming?  She won't be here?"
"But I tried so hard!"
"And I thought he really cared."

It's not that I feel angry.  Not that.
Whether right or wrong, sometimes I blame myself
for the disappointments that descend like a dark cloud.
I bear my share, but I don't carry it all.  Others own it, too.

"He gave me his word.  Now what do I do?"
"Won't she ever call?  I told her I was sorry."
"It's no consolation to hear:  'Better luck next time.'"

Do pieces of one's heart ever fit properly again?
Do disappointments die?
I doubt it.