A heart’s dream.

24 Dec

I do not need a symbol
Of love, a common heart shape to decorate a cake.
The heart that is supposed to belong, or break.

All hearts are meant to pound,
This is to be expected, the hearts
normal struggle against being drowned.

Most hearts live small,
But some hearts dream further; they force you to listen,
to dream past the front gate.

It’s a constant pestering in my ears,
A caught moth in a burning flame,
A burst water main at the end of your street.

Because it’s not enough to dream that small.
Its not enough to wait by the wall.

Unless you follow, the heart will ache and the hearts true mystery still awaits.
You’ll find it at the boarding gate.

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