PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Worn out are the stitches,

that hold together a patch

to cover the hole,

its massive depth embedded

straight into my heart.



No longer can it hide,

threads torn apart

making the wound fresh.

Pain seeps through,

crimson red with emotion.



Tears now come freely,

my salty river of sorrow.

Now the heart is black,

cold like a winter's night,

dead and numb.