Is this how you have forsaken me?

With cold hands and a bow of words,

With glares that are tight for tears,

And unblinking at my writhing heart.

Will you not try to heal it up?

Pour more than liquid tonic into hands;

Leave the door not half ajar,

But fling wide open your sheltered heart.

Pray- patch it up before I wilt,

Die and morph back into the bouquet;

With warmth and a poultice of embraces,

Try the best to mend our broken hearts.

Godspeed, I beg, for all your lack

Sends such poison to my neurotic mind;

How can I say I’ll carry on? But

How can I stop the beating of the heart?

The End

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