Brianna N R Wine (9-29-1995 / USA)
The Dead Heart
Blood tears run down her porcelain face,
Her heart weeps for the lost love.
Her spirit is crushed
Just like her dead dove,
Black words spill out of a lush mouth
Her mind bleeds for the killed past
She weeps harder because she knows
He will be her last.
Dark thoughts entwine with a beautiful mind
Her body screams for the one that was lost
Her soul is no longer intact
For she had loved him at a grave cost.
Comments about this poem (The Dead Heart by Brianna N R Wine )
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