The Rusted Heart

I finger the small curved shape of

The charm that hangs from the chain

That you left sitting on your dressing table.


It's silver casing is fading and the

Transient glitter that once caught the light

Has gone.


The red appeared from that night

We sat in the rain together

Reading each others thoughts.


I thread it through my fingers

And try to remember your face

And how you looked with it hanging from your neck.


Turning to face your mirror I see you.

I look around the room we shared our childhood in

And the charm is hard and cold.


The rust envelopes me as the heart tries to float in those tears.

The End

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