At first the hurt wells up.
Feelings like a porcelain cup.
Beautiful to hold, easy to break up.
Bad things come the fore.
When you've been shown the door.
Knocks you on your backside,
landing heavily on the floor.
Thousand questions in your mind.
They had their reasons, cruel to be kind.
Best thing I find,
is to move on.
Once that person goes,
Get back on the horse, go on.
Make a move until you find the one.
The one, who will,
with time mend your broken heart.
I Siddiqi 5.6.09
Owner of a broken heart repaired effortlessly by his wife
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.