• One word which my heart once was.
    Whole.
    And which it may never be again.
    Since it broke,
    no substance
    is able to keep it together.
    It was fragile.
    Made of innocence.
    The other half is lost.
    It may never be found.
    One half of a whole is no good.
    When the other has disintegrated.
    Like every other breath I take