“Love is not written on paper, for paper can be erased. Nor is it etched on stone, for stone can be broken.
But it is inscribed on a heart and there it shall remain forever.”
* * * * *
At first it was just flesh and blood inside her body,
surrounded by ribs, colored in crimson
and covered with skin,
or other wise said pump-like organ of blood circulation,
composed of rhythmically contractile muscle,
located in the chest, being there
simply to beat and to keep her alive.
Then she met him and the crimson, pulsing muscle
became the center of her emotions,
the innermost of her spirit,
giving her wings to join the stars and the moonlight.
Now it’s called “the heart” or what’s left of it,
ice, slowly turning into water,
soon to evaporate and leave her with pale dreams
and nothing to say about the secrets of love.
© 2012 Broken Sparkles