My heart is a dry marker, Something once fresh and new Now used to death.
When young, my heart was Brimming with bright love. Now it has been drained of All emotion.
And it is all your fault, Your ideas of love, Have made it so it is true When I say;
My heart is a dry marker.
YOU ARE READING
The Lonesome Rock and other Poems and Shorts
PoetryWhat does a lonely rock think as it sits all alone? What does the last dandelion do as it waits to be devoured? What happened in the house on the hill?
