I gave you my heart.
The wrapping was bad and it was far from new.
But I gave it to you.
It had cracks, some bigger than others.
But I gave it to you.
It still beat loud and loved all the same.
So I gave it to you.
When you took it, I thought I’d get one in return.
Though all I got was a empty box, where a heart once was.
You couldn’t give it to me.
I would of accepted it no matter the condition.
But you couldn’t give it to me.
I would have loved ever crack whatever the size.
But you couldn’t give it to me.
Because another had your heart still in her hand.
So here I am.
With an empty box.
-
Author:
Caitlin Carson (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 3rd, 2018 05:24
- Category: Love
- Views: 18
Offline)
Comments2
Lovely Caitlin - and very sad. A "real" version of what love is sometimes....
sad but so well written 🙂 '' another had your heart still in her hand ''
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.