Torn and wounded,
my heart lays
still.
Still pumping
In my chest,
The same beat
Keeps me living.
But the heart
for dreaming
for touching
for feeling
stopped.
I remember when it still worked.
When a birthday cupcake made me happy,
And hugs weren't empty,
When I could cry.
I miss that time,
though it seems distant
like a childhood world
I left behind.
If I could feel
just one more time
the raw sensation
of the world around -
the warmth of an embrace
the light of a child
the rough of a handshake
the chill of a rebuke
the stabbing of a goodbye
the music of a sunrise
the rush of tasting
the smell of paper
the beauty of darkness
the magic of growth
the color of a moment -
I'd catch it
and lock it
in my broken heart.
So maybe it would beat again.