boktjejernamedstil

It has been resting in my ribcage

Or maybe it has just been dead

Something that human calls the heart.

I call it the reason for misery,

The love that you sometimes find

In someone else’s heart.

Fools call it a miracle,

And they are not necessarily wrong,

It is a miracle who can break you.

I see myself as a person with a broken heart

But the wounds on my heart are self-inflicted.

I should not have loved.

I learned that lesson the hard way, and yet,

Here I am again; in the dark depths of love.

It has been resting in the paths that I walk,

The chance to love again but it wasn’t a choice.

It just happened.

And as much as I hate it,

I love it too.