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“The Heart”
She steps over my heart,
As if it were a muddy puddle.
Without a thought or a care.
Just a slight inconvenience in her stride.
It pains her not,
To see it lying there before her.
She would call me foolish,
For carelessly leaving it lying about.
How else could she have found it,
Beneath her,
Dying at her feet.
She didn't know that it had been hidden away.
Locked in a box,
Put in a drawer,
In the back of my closet.
Not seeing the light of Love for years.
All of which stated above,
Must have contributed,
To its quick demise.
Being so weak and pale,
Unused for any physical contact,
It didn't stand a chance,
Against a woman so strong,
And vibrant and full of life.
Hell, some might even call it,
Suicide of the heart.
Knowingly going into battle,
Against insurmountable odds.
The outcome already fore told,
Before my first words were ever spoken.
Tom Allen… 12-19-2016