I always dreamed that,
I was like a paper red heart,
that you can hanged on a
ceiling with those lovely
polariods and buoyant
moonlike silver and pearl
white balloons.
But in reality, I was like a
paper red heart with a broken
line in the middle—and sadly,
I always end up getting ripped
apart—not just once but for
the countless times, and it
breaks me.
It suddenly breaks my heart
into a billion pieces to the
point that I can't even bring
back my original shape—I
mean my heart.
Photo from Pinterest
©a.rosie
A