Broken Heart

The danger of a broken heart is not the pain.
Not the tears, or anger.
Not the ache, not the loneliness,
not the quiet, the empty seat, the bed now much too big.
The danger of a broken heart is what we have to repair it with.
Mistrust, hopelessness, faux comfort.
The oaths we take. What we swear to ourselves.
The danger is self-reliance.
The danger is that these stitches in our heart don’t fall out.
That they are there to stay.
Because they must.
The danger is that we know it isn’t about love anymore.
it isn’t about how perfect we are in our world.
It’s about how perfect we are in theirs.
The danger is that two became one.
And a half of one…
Half is not whole.
But now we must make it so.


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Vagabond Heart – Found Poetry

“I know your fingers sting from snagging them on wild rose thorns … but you’re still holding my hand and ignoring the trickling blood.
I know it bruises when you get tangled in barbed-wire-smiles … but you’re still kissing my lips and calling me beautiful.”

Me (not as in me Angela Kukhahn unfortunately)

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