Carrying your heart

Alone in your pocket

You pulled it out from its very own socket

Removed it to another location

Filled the hole

With different concoctions

But quiet it sat alone in your pocket



It wept to itself

Tears just one or two or three were felt

No one could hear it

Or feel it

Or touch it

And the hole sat cold

And just a little bit damp

For the pumping of wells were left to the shadows

Unable to function

Though things often sat in it

All would try and give it a minute

But always they would feel the cold and the damp

And then they knew

What this was about

For they were looking for the a pulse and some warmth

But it lay hidden out of sight and out of sorts


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