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

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