Dark Poetry

Hearts

Is it fun to throw away what I gave you?

Honestly, I just want to know.

I was born to a couple, but they threw me away to an orphanage.

I never knew the love of a family.

The people there treated fed me, allowed me shelter, provided me education, but no love was included. The other children there all had friends that cared about them. I didn’t.

It wasn’t until father came for me. He stepped in through the door and as soon as his eyes set on me, he told the lady that he was taking me home. And from the day he adopted me till now, he still has the biggest place in my heart.

He cared for me and taught me what a heart is. He told me that my heart was the most beautiful heart he’s ever seen. Yet, the more beauty a heart bares, the more delicate it is.

I believed him. He was right.

He told me: one day, I would find someone special enough to hand my heart over to them.

He told me that if the other cared for me enough, they would accept the gift and give their heart to me in return. That’s what love was.

But I didn’t understand. Why couldn’t father keep my heart? I never understood.

Was I not special enough for him?

Most likely...

Because, one day, after school, I returned home to find him with another. The lady was beautiful; oh, she was gorgeous.

Father introduced her to me as his fiancé. They were going to be married next month. He could have at least told me. It hurts to think that he kept something so big from me.

But a week before their wedding, they had a car accident and left the world, to a happier place, leaving me behind.

That delicate heart of mine fell from father’s limp hands and broke. I was once again alone. I sat by myself for days and nights, gathering those broken and chipped pieces and putting them back together to rebuild that heart.

No matter how hard I tried, it looked ugly. A couple of pieces were missing and it wasn’t as red. The paint had faded, the color had faded.

I took the heart and placed it inside a glass case and locked it in a black chest. I buried it deep inside me and hid it behind my fake smiles. I promised myself that I would never give it away to anyone.

Who would want such a damaged heart in the first place?

Then you came along. You never left my side no matter how hard I tried to push you away. And eventually, you were able to find the key that opened the black chest.

You took my heart and fixed it, repainted it, polished it. You would place the heart between us as we slept. You would kiss it good-morning after you kissed me.

And I thought maybe, just maybe, you were the one special person I should give my heart to. And I did, only to find my decision wrong.

The day I was going to give my heart to you, I caught you with her. You two had fallen asleep on the couch we used to share every night.

I could almost literally see it happening. My heart was thrown on the ground and shattered into millions of pieces. The pain was unbearable.

I fled, running to who knows where.

I soon found myself sitting upon a ledge on a 30 story building. I allowed myself a small smile as I realized my stupidity.

I stood up and stared out at the horizon. I admired the many colors that painted the sky. I wish I had that many colors in my life. But everything was just black and white, now splattered with an ugly red.

I wasn’t afraid when I leaned forward and let gravity take me. I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t think anything. The wind rushed by my face as I closed my eyes.

And when I opened them again, I was laying upon a soft white cloud, gazing at the everlasting cycle of the sunrise and sunset.