Wednesday, 28 December 2011

Uncontrived


I learned to keep my heart in my fist
I press it hard when it gets aroused

Relax I say, but it scream for its abode
in the chest

Stop it I say, what will the other hearts will say
when they see you performing like this

Formless I squeeze it till takes the required shape
it is moulded like my five judgemental fingers

My heart closes her new fist on me
it presses my mind when it feels condemned

Damn you, heart says as my mind feels the
emptiness

Heart squeezes the lame mind and I throw heart
Back into the chest saying sorry!

1 comment:

  1. aw, broken hearts seem to want to heal faster than our memories can handle it seems.

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