Sometimes I think,
I should remove this heart,
And replace it with one made of stone or glass.
This one loves too deeply.
And gets hurt too often.
It has too many expectations
and is probably dying a slow death.
It looks tired and frail anyways.
I am tired of giving it assurances,
That someday it will regain its glory
and someone worthy will help mend it
And it will glow, back to its former self.
It cries at night, often in pain,
No one to hold and call it's own.
The stone one will keep me alive,
So what if this one dies.
This real one,
That dreamt and believed in love,
That was often misunderstood and left at the altar once.
I will replace it soon.
