You do not wear your heart on sleeve.
You keep it hidden deep in woods,
Where no light ever caresses the roots,
And no one ever hears the thumping song of longing.
You keep it sank down at the bottom
In a chest made of oak and metal holding,
In the ocean deep, so deep where only
Syrens dwell and haunt.
Just close it off in furthest closet,
Or else, it’ll be thrown into the pocket
With keys and gum and other things.
Where it’ll crash into red smithereens.
With them, well you make a puzzle for yourself
And hang it on the wall as some strange trophy.
Wonderful collection you have in there -
Grotesque piece of youth’s folly.
You do not wear your heart on sleeve
© Copyright: Карина Ватьян, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125101106603
Свидетельство о публикации №125101106603
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