Cold Heart

It sits there,
near your ribs,
too far to touch,
too far to heal--

Your heart--
ignored by some,
destroyed by others--
beats a lonely

drummer's beat
best forgotten by
the heat of unmoved
emotions, or unreturned

smiles. It sits there
in the dark land
of your body,
blocking any warmth.

And when it finds
a song, a new rhythm,
it deflates before its time--
your heart is left,

it is abandoned. 

The End

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