Stephen Carey (November 13,1992 -)
Our Broken Hearts
You always come late,
You always leave early.
I barely catch a glimpse of you,
While you totally miss me.
It tears my heart, every time.
How does it make you feel?
I see it in the way you walk,
I see it in the way you talk,
And in the way you run and hide,
And in the way you move your eyes;
I see you are falling apart,
Or have you a broken heart?
I know I have made mistakes before,
And I am seeing them more and more.
Is it me that has hurt you so?
Tell me, please, I need to know.
I’m worried about you, I’ll say it again.
I’m worried about you, as I’ve always been.
I notice you walk with a crook in your stride,
Like a zombie or a ghost, it seems like you’ve died.
‘Tis like you have bad shoulders under your head,
I tell you, it looks to me like you are dead.
I do not know, after all, what we will find.
We’ll see, just as soon as I’ve made up my mind.
Again, you came late.
Again, you left early.
I barely caught a glimpse of you,
And you didn’t see me at all.
My heart has cracked and torn again,
I just wonder how this makes you feel.
Comments about this poem (Our Broken Hearts by Stephen Carey )
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