Momma said to never cry over spilt milk and broken cookies but, she never said anything about a broken heart.
Its just as hard to pick up the tiny shatters and unlike crumbs they are not carpet cleanable, they stay, stain, and burn a hole through the very floor of your soul.
I was told when I was young that nobody can hear the pop of a breaking heart-string so you have to make sure it is never hurt;
But I'm sorry mommy its all my fault! I left it out and exposed and just when I thought it was safe it wasn't!
Not just one string it was all,
I broke my love instrument and now I don't think I can love only fall.
At least not without a new heart for mine is not repairable, no longer even a damaged good but more like a scenario,
of what could have been before everything that was solid ground started quaking, and rearranging itself to fit the profile of that of a being with no other outcome except lonely defeat,
and even though we've been running the long mile,
hope just seems to be the horizon beyond our reach.
