The heartbreaker failed her task
Too busy looking in the harsh desert
For tiny glittering pieces
Of her own heart
Broken and stomped upon
By the muse to her imagination
As she weeps and tries to reconstruct
With blood stained fingertips
Her heart with the words
She wrote with a fevered hope
That he will come to read
And weep as pathetically
As she did.
I wrote this yesterday, while chatting to a friend about my day. He asked me if I have broke any hearts for the day and this poem, came out instead. I showed it to Mokesart, he said I was trying to drive him to suicide with all the depressing poems. He also said its incredible and I made some tweaks and voila.
Yes, thank you.
7 comments:
I think sometimes I write something because I know he reads what I write and I want him to feel the same sadness I feel too...
Awesome poem Hanis;)
It is really good but please don't drive Mokesart to suicide. I sometimes wonder how the people who break hearts feel when their own is broken.
It really is fantastic.
Intriguing, and if it impresses Mokesart... well. Well. I think that speaks for itself.
You have an advantage cause he reads what you write. Milk it. But on a serious note, maybe it will lead to what you want.
I won't. I think there are books about those people and how they feel. The common theme is that they feel guilty for the hearts they broke and its karma.
Thank you :D
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