Something Killed
Cleaning out my heart is hard work
The floors need scrubbed
The walls need painted
I have to replace all of the furniture
The lightbulbs shattered
I have to clean that up by hand too
No broom
My heart is a mess
Someone came in and trashed the place
They stole every valuable
Everything I every loved
All my stories
All my writing
And secrets too
But the one thing I needed most
They didn't take or break it
No it was a living, breathing thing
That they so happened to kill
They killed my love
Yes they did
So now I'm stuck cleaning up my heart
This poem is about:
Me