My Heart Poem by Herman Hoyte

I gave you my heart.
For a while you cared for it.
But as time went by, it became old.
And now it's just another object you hold.

It gets tossed about,
Kicked or skipped, like a small rock.
You may claim you gave it back.
But my chest feels empty.

You may not realize,
But it's still in your pocket.
And pain shoots through my soul when you carelessly drop it.

You may not want it.
Perhaps I should have kept it.

But the deed is done.
And my heart is gone.

Lost in pile of the past.
Blanketed with old letters and trash
In the corner of the room,
Still beating
Still bleeding
Waiting to be seen.
Waiting to be cleaned.

I'm not asking you keep it,
Just remember its there.
Pick it up, dust it off, Treat it with care.
Heal its wounds of neglect

Once again give it respect.

Then return it if you wish,
Restored and whole.

I'd take it now.
But I need a heart

Not what it's become.

Not the lonely shell of a shattered soul