Red.

I left on a journey,

Thinking I’d find my whole.

But I left a piece of my heart with each person I had to leave.

So when I reached my destination

I didn’t have a whole me,

Nor enough pieces of me.

My heart was missing.

The hurt was red.

I ran back to my pieces. Home.

But some people grasped them to tightly crushing them.

While finding some have thrown them to the wind

As if they were pieces of sand tossed about in the ocean.

How can you tell me to follow my heart?

My heart is in pieces.

My heart

Its m i s s i n g.

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