Array ( [sid] => 175348 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => My Heart [time] => 2013-03-04 16:55:42 [hometext] => [bodytext] => There are days when I crave you
There are times when I hate you
Moments that we're so happy, time freezes
And moments that we are so angry
That we'll never forget.

But I love it all.
It defines us and makes this real.
Every night is a promise of memories
that only we can feel.
Every day with you is a gift from a god
That I don't believe in.
But I'll be forever thankful
no matter when this ends.

I still count
The minutes we're apart.
I still keep you
inside of my heart.
This broken organ,
that I gave you years ago.
...I think you gave it back.

It's not the same as it used to be.
It feels a little lighter.
It's rhythm is off, I think it's cracked
I think it used to be brighter.


I suppose I'll just tuck it away.
This ugly thing,
I'll keep it out of sight.
Set it up, on a dusty shelf
I'll keep it from the light.
Someday, maybe, you'll take it back again.
I guess, I'll just, hold onto it until then. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 188 [topic] => 2 [informant] => Thirten [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LovePoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - My Heart


My Heart
Date: Monday, 4th March 2013 @ 04:55:42 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Thirten
There are days when I crave you
There are times when I hate you
Moments that we're so happy, time freezes
And moments that we are so angry
That we'll never forget.

But I love it all.
It defines us and makes this real.
Every night is a promise of memories
that only we can feel.
Every day with you is a gift from a god
That I don't believe in.
But I'll be forever thankful
no matter when this ends.

I still count
The minutes we're apart.
I still keep you
inside of my heart.
This broken organ,
that I gave you years ago.
...I think you gave it back.

It's not the same as it used to be.
It feels a little lighter.
It's rhythm is off, I think it's cracked
I think it used to be brighter.


I suppose I'll just tuck it away.
This ugly thing,
I'll keep it out of sight.
Set it up, on a dusty shelf
I'll keep it from the light.
Someday, maybe, you'll take it back again.
I guess, I'll just, hold onto it until then.

This poem is Copyright © Thirten


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