My heart

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  • GeniusMan
  • When push comes to shove, conga lines can get pretty ugly.

Poem Commentary

I don't know about you, but I'm crying over here. I'm an amateur poet, so I don't know if this is as emotional to you as the story I've made it to be in my head. If you even shed a single tear, I did my job. Oh man, this one's a jerker.

My heart

When we were young, I gave you a heart mad out of mud
I still liked mud and it cleansed the soul
Much like I believe was love

Then I made you a heart out of our old wood toy building logs
In the same way, we could play all day
And I'd never get bored

Then I made you a heart of tape and sticks
like sticks on their branches, our slow love advances
and like tape there was no problem we can't fix

But then middle school came, and you started your new look
It was so hard to keep up, my heart was our yearbook
I knew you were there, but sometimes I couldn't find you
And on occasion, when I could, I was patiently behind you

Highschool; you were popular now, I was alone and blue
Soon, you started dating around, and I'd still wait for you
I'd slide by the hallways and choke out my best
My heart was on hold behind the librarian's desk

Then one day you came to me, tears filled your eyes
Your heart had been beaten up by some other guy
So I calmed you down, yanked my heart out of the queue
I said, "But I will be one man who'll always love you."

She laughed and we hugged
Her heart found lost love
No matter her dates, we had, at least, become buds

My heart was those flowers, to go with the dress
They budded romance, when I asked you to the dance
And the heart you gave me was when you told me 'Yes.'

Then my heart was a tennis game, something to count on
When I bent to one knee and said three words
My heart was in your court, and will be from now on

My heart was a argument back when were five
We got in our first fight and you started to cry
"That's not what I meant," so we met comprimise

I made you a heart out of paychecks and bills
I'm doing my best and we're just scraping by
But if our hearts can't make it, then nobody's will

My heart is our firstborn, My heart is our fourthborn
My heart is the mornings when I changed the diapers
My heart is that old couch, My heart is our night outs
My heart is when Timothy finally made try outs
My heart is that Christmas, My heart's a good night kiss
My heart is when me and kids made you breakfast
My heart is the pumpkins, we'd carve every fall
My heart is when we no longer did those at all
My heart is 'gone fishin', My heart's their tuition
My heart was when we'd go on family vacations
My heart is a grandkid, My heart is retirement
My heart is when the doctors called me that you're sick
My heart's hospital holidays, My heart's pacing hallways
My heart's knowing you're with angels, like the one you were always

Now, I've made you a heart out of what I got left
Today it would be our sixtieth anniversary
And I want you to know that I'd still give you my best


My heart doesn't work right, the doctors assume
But my heart works fine as long as it still loves you

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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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GeniusMan’s Poems (63)

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