With a broken heart💔, as my eyes fought to keep dry😔,
My mind wandered off to what is and what was.
My throat choked, my heart bled, agony overcame me,
Struggling and gasping, the soul looked for a cause.
Wasn’t this what the poems sang of and glorified?
Tears of helplessness flowing profusely, unsupressed.
The mind, numb,💭 replaying the memories like a record,
The whole fibre of the body, shaken, lost, distressed.
Then why, oh, am I on the verge of shattering?
Every ounce of my being, a mirror held precariously.
Like a little caress, a soft touch would make it rain glass,
Jagged edges cutting everything in the vicinity furiously.
As the moment subsided, the mind became a blank canvas💬,
The heartbeat steadied, fingers grasped for support.
The tears dried up leaving streaks of kohl behind,
And I became a picture of pity: a ragged distort.
Whether I would brave it all or succumb to heartache?
As my mind and heart, waged a war to decide a course,
A spark lit,💡 igniting a fire in my soul like never before,
Strengthing, hardening, resolving, efussing a force🔥.
I remembered the advise my Father once gave me,
“People who break hearts, don’t deserve a place in it.
Know that the right man would pick up the pieces, heal,
And the baffling puzzle would fall to a perfect fit.
Know that if he hurts you, and still isn’t perturbed,
Pains your heart intentionally and isn’t sympathetic,
Is rude, crude, malicious, manipulative, insecure,
Know that his love is a facade, ugly and cosmetic.
Remember my words, the one will surely come,
Instead of making your heart go into a crazy frenzy,
Fill the void and make you feel safe and secure,
With a love to your heart and soul alike, immensely.”
The mirror in the image no longer looked haggard.
The heart and hand steadied, the shooting pain mellowed.
And I forgave AND forgot, letting go of the hurt,
As the substance of my Father’s words, my soul echoed.