Wounded. Hurt. Disappointed
You came into my life
One look at you and I knew
You needed me
I needed you maybe
I am not sure yet
I looked at you from across the hall
Where you sat, a book in hand
Reading but turning pages not
You looked up as I approached
I held your eyes; you looked through me
It was written in your sad face
You were broken
I knew I had to mend you
I sat next to you, hunched closer
Asked what you were reading
Without looking up you gave me your book
What book I forget
But I held it for long as we communed in the hush
You told me the story of your life
I nodded I understood I felt your pain
I bought you an empty book and a pen
To write what you could not utter
I took you for long walks in the wind
So the kind wind would blow your pain away
By the flowing river I sat you
So you could release your darkness into the waters
Endless games we played
So you could forget that yours had been but a game
With my own very heart I reached to your heart
Stitch by stitch I mend you with the rhythm of my heart
I smiled at you and slowly I saw your lips taking form
My smile you returned
And then I knew you were whole again
My heart had healed yours and one they were
Heart beat by heart beat.
Why am I staring at this book now?
I woke this morning to an empty hut
I mend your heart then you broke mine
And now I need him to mend my own
So his heart I can break like you broke my own.

6 thoughts on “So his heart I can break

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