In two days, words were spoken that left my heart quite broken.
It wasn’t a complete shattering; but a shrewd, quiet battering.
I wonder why words matter so, when i quite plainly know, that those who willfully spoke meant words to painfully stoke vanity and vulnerability, which I hide deep within me.
But the heart shelters these two with that which has kept me true.
The words flew in and struck, and i was quite out of luck, they lashed and broke quite a bit – I’m still reeling from the hit.
A corner here, a chunk there, no word was lost to barren air; so I nestle chips and dents and, through this poem, it vents its bitterness and loss of hope, wondering how I’ll manage to cope with the ideal of love inside the reality of pride.