My eyes are dry having used all the tears
but the tears of my heart continue to cry,
warm droplets frozen by the icy wind
from the cold hearts of others.
Jagged shards of ice dripping from my weeping heart
tearing, shredding, gouging, wounding,
trying to disfigure and make grotesque
the love in my heart.
My heart grows old and weary of the pain
offering love only to be rejected again
rebuked in the worst possible ways
lied to, cheated on, closed heart
and mind, used, just refused.
Outside my heart is scarred
and strewn like craters of the moon
but inside there is a garden of flowers
fed by the spring of warm tears
as they flow to face the cold hearts
Though the flower garden
is old and not as bright
the blossoms are still full of love
waiting apprehensively, expectantly,
to merge with the garden of another.
Outside the icy winds blow,
the tears of my heart painfully freeze,
eternally awaiting a warm heart
to change them to water again.
Source : Google
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