In the purgatory
of etched ink
I was asked
"Where have you
hidden
your happy heart?"

Perhaps, I lost it
in the sea
of noctural whimpers
or had it stolen
by the fleeting bird
called chance

The umbrella of sunshine
against broken blues
is nowhere to  be found.

"What you carry within,
a dismembered array
of broken hearts
are not your own."

Go find your happy heart
of childhood.