Hole-d.

March 12, 2014 § 4 Comments

So i decided to not wear my
heart on my sleeve again.
You taught me that lesson,
the hard way. I tried to
pull it out of the pink
colored stitches I’d made
on it.
It did come out.
And it’s left a hole in me:
something that can’t be
filled with blood, sweat, 
love or music.

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§ 4 Responses to Hole-d.

  • There’s an old Romanian saying, to be approximately translated: “Who’s burnt himself with hot soup, shall try to blow cool even his yogurt…”
    Unfortunately as I have found out after half a century, one may try to refrain of being honest, yet in vain…
    Honesty is a hereditary, genetic malformation of all those who were born somewhere else then where they should have, definitely the wrong century, for all the wrong reasons, and always for the wrong people…
    I will be following…

  • Ben Naga says:

    “a hole in me:
    something that can’t be
    filled with blood, sweat,
    love or music”
    Trust in time, my dear. Time

  • Unfortunately this is the case , that piece of emptiness , and ones that tell us the joy can be replaced by this or that I think that are foolish and dismissive of the self. We can, however, move on and find new and different areas of our heart wherein joy and contentment may be found. We cannot allow ourselves to dwell in that now empty compartment but it does not me we should forget it.

  • shimmeshine says:

    Awesome ! I can relate absolutely !

    Everytime we decide not to wear our heart on the sleeve, and yet we do it…. Just to leave a hole behind, Everytime it is ripped apart !!

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