Art.

I'm in pain so I needed an outlet.

If hearts could explode, mine probably would
Your callous hands have made it so
I gaze into your eyes that shine so bright
Without knowing of their dark depths just a few miles deep
Every bone aches with your words of promise
Petrified of being snapped on a whim
This hurricane you've created tosses me like a rag doll
Unable to escape
It soars around my head when the stars come out
And I'm torn from sleep and taken on a ride
Every possibility rights itself in my face
Bringing back the pain
Until my heart sputters and pounds
It beats against your words, thoughts and those callous hands
Hoping to win over such blue eyes
What will happen to my heart?
I suppose it could explode,
and maybe you'll call it art.

Author's Note

Yeah. It sucks. Sorry.

Reviews

[Octavia]

This felt a little disjointed. I wanted to find a theme and I didn't really succeed. The closest I came was the repetition of exploding hearts and callous hands. However, the rest just felt a bit jumbled to me.

I do like the lines "This hurricane you've created tosses me like a rag doll/unable to escape" There is a lot of nice imagery in that section of the poem.