My Heart Is

​”My heart is”

My heart is a shy innocent child

My heart is a shy innocent child on the first day of school. Introverted and afraid just wanting people to like it. Staying invisible yet craving attention. It has words hidden under its tongue. 

Just say hello,

just say hello,

just say hello…

it chants but doesn’t do it. It falls short on courage and looks the other way. Maybe tomorrow 

But tomorrow never comes.

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My heart is a wanderer.

Curious little thing sitting on my shoulder. Looking out at the world. Smiling at strangers. Talking to anyone who shows even remote interest. Craves the soulful connection in a world so disconnected. Looks at the chase, the world and its maddening race. Just stares, wanders and wonders.

Finds itself in foreign corridors and stranger’s bed. Falls in love with random strangers, the stranger the better. Falls in love with best friends. Falls in love with guy who gives me roses by the sidewalk. Falls in love with anyone who shows it a little affection. Falls in love with reckless abandon. Falls in love a little too easily, tasting it all.

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My heart is a cage.

Beautiful to look at with its bars decorated in intricate forms adorned with gems, rubies, sapphires and emeralds. Uses deception to pretend that this cage is more than cage, pretends it’s a pedastal to put the worthy on to worship. It seems like a seat of power fit for any crowned prince and princess. 

Jewels and gems adorning this pitiful cage, waiting for yet another love to cage. A trap for any emotion that appeals to its fancy. It holds their love inside, proud to show it as a proof that its worthy of loving. An evidence for others who will come later. But it loves, it knows loving in its own corrupted way.

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My heart is a museum

The gates heavy with sorrow.

The pillars whispering of deeds committed.

The hallways rich with memories.

Ex conquests adorn its walls.

It puts them up on display.

Proud of the love lost; proud of the love gained.

Encasing all the ‘first’ feelings in bell jars for all to see, for they’ll never be experienced again. They can only be cherished now. First step, first word, first bicycle ride without training wheels, first rains, first day of school or of college, first dance, first kiss… its pure unadultered first times.

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My heart is a monster 

A monster who wakes up from its slumber once in a while, green with jealousy and envy ,

bitter with endings,

red with rage.

Resentment tainting its glow, poisoning it from inside like acid under my skin. The abdonment in past fuels it, tarnishing its glow.

Angry with people, at things

Self destructing, puts gun to mouth and pukes the bullet out, puking guts out.

Something so dark lurks in its shadow. Forever trying to escape from my ribcage and suicide it self on the sidewalk. It needs only little provoking to awaken the monster. Reigning it in is a balancing act with me at the edge of sanity. When it truly awakens, it has an one track mind. It only knows taking, creeps upon its prey and devours it whole. True predator.

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My heart is a broken mess

Tear stained cheeks and silent sobs.

Empty bottles and long paragraphs at 3. It’s walls caving in and shaking grounds. It’s drunk calling, slurred words and swearing. It’s shades in classes and work so that you don’t see my red eyes.

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My heart is a hand grenade

And I throw it carefully choosing my target. Shower him with compliments, give him all my attention. It bursts in 5 seconds.

To little time hide but enough to recognise.

1. Talk to him. Make that effort.

2. Love him. For once just love someone else. 

3. Believe in him. Build him up. Show him love.

4. Love till it is burning red and that’s all you see

5. Love. Red. Danger.

Grenade. Destroy him… destroy him while destroying yourself. The world isn’t a safe place anyway.

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My heart is a graveyard

Full of buried dreams, emotions and feelings 

It digs up a 6 ft hole buries guilt of never living up to others expectations, not living up to their idea of me. Buries shame, anxiety and depression and moves on.

Waits by the grave for them to claw their way out to bury them yet again.
At night it screams and sobs till my throat is sore.

It howls and pines for visitors who aren’t full of sorrow upon visiting.

For it has seen nothing but death.

I give them all a proper burial say an eulogy and move on.

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My heart is everything and nothing, all at once. So hollow yet so heavy. Maybe it’s nothing more than a fucking blood pumping machine.

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PC – heart image from google images

Proofread by Neetikaalways

A/N – let me know what you think of the poem in the comments. Feedback is always appreciated. ❤

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