My Heart
If you could take a Q-tip and clean my heartyou'd find 19 years of dark, ugly spider veins.
Traveling in the most unpredictable pattern.
Paths of questions and sorrow, doubt and pain,
broken promises and tears, debt and regret.
The residue is black and lifeless -
no longer the color of blood.
It is sticky tar - hard to remove;
Leaving stain on all it touches.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.