The heart is a lonely hunter, looking for a place to be.
Knowing how much the hurt knows it can never be.
I wished you could find a place so deep in my heart
That all I had to do was give you my open heart.
I know that you have another, I wished it was me,
But I know that it will never be.
My heart is so real I know I did wrong, so what do you do with it all?
The hurt is inside me I know for I forget not
I know I will keep trying, for my heart knows no rest
You are living inside my heart, and at last my heart is at rest.
January 20,2008
Arthur: Ronald L. Burchett
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem