Tattered and torn,
my patchwork heart,
a victim of the destruction
that tore me apart,
a casualty of a time
when I built castles in my mind,
constructing wishful hopes
from every sign
I could find,
yet now, all I have left
is this tapestry in my chest,
a weaving of the remnants
of the dreams that
were compressed
beneath the weight of disappointment,
and the dark shroud of woe,
yet in the depths of darkness,
my threadbare heart
is still ready for
tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments
PoetryPoetry and fragments of my mind. Dealing with heartache, betrayal, sorrow, and hope. Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook.
