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Literature Text
9.13.02
My paper heart stopped beating today.
No warning.
The wrinkled edges stopped breathing.
Too many wholes punched through
Worn too thin
The blood that once flowed through it…
Like color to the painter
Melody to the musician
The artist’s painting dries
The musician’s rhythm eventually slows
My paper heart stopped beating today.
No warning.
The wrinkled edges stopped breathing.
Too many wholes punched through
Worn too thin
The blood that once flowed through it…
Like color to the painter
Melody to the musician
The artist’s painting dries
The musician’s rhythm eventually slows
wrote this one a few weeks ago.... i have not been the best of moods lately
© 2002 - 2024 richieZ
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kewl