heart

Don’t ever put chocolate in your pocket

~ ~M ~ 25 Comments

It was Valentine’s Day,
and he gave me a candy heart,
a chocolate-filled sweet,
with love he did impart.

And I placed that dainty morsel
in the pocket of my jeans,
the tiny tempting treasure
settled nicely in the seams.

With chocolate in my pocket,
I then went about my day,
feeling quite content
over the sentiment conveyed.

But as the day turned into night,
I realized my mistake;
that bit of chocolate in my pocket
for granted I did take.

My prize had now become
a melted memory of bliss,
forgotten in my pocket,
becoming a liquified kiss.

It reminded me of all the times
I’d let love pass through my fingers.
It seems there’s never a good way
to make deliciousness linger.

© 2021 Michelle Cook

 

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/heart-pink-ribbon-greeting-card-2448640/

Mending a heart

~ ~M ~ 13 Comments

heart-4257684_1280

Of all the things
We mend each day
A heart is rather hard
They say

Stitching a heart
Requires patience and skill
A steady hand
And a very sharp quill

Most people flee
From the needle at hand
For they will not agree
With what they don’t understand

And sharp objects
Are never very nice
So a wounded heart
Is often left to suffice

Yet the task of mending
Is actually quite easy
If you can find a person
Who isn’t too queasy

But just how often
Is somebody actually willing
To take a chance
On further heart spilling

Most would rather
Just let things be
Because mending a heart
Isn’t easy you see

It may seem simple
To the mender
But not for the person
Who must surrender

Matters of the heart
Are never quite clear
And that’s just the way it is
My dear

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Born with a paper heart

~ ~M ~ 6 Comments

paper2

I was born with a paper heart,
Soon to be ripped up and torn apart.

Written upon it were false hopes and dreams,
Scribbled out,
Paper heart ripped at the seams.

Folded until tight and not allowing in light,
People tried but I withstood with all my might.

My delicate heart was not to be touched,
Fear of more hurt, in my hand it stayed clutched.

So under my watch my paper heart will stay,
Until the day that the wind blows it away.

 

Written by my closest confidant and dearest friend, Will Power.