Home is where the heart is. by EquitableMadness, literature
Literature
Home is where the heart is.
She held his heart in her hand,
and with the power the give or take,
She crushed it into glimmering sand,
right before the time she would wake,
To find him sleeping next to her,
Arms wrapped around her protecting.
And she knew that he had loved her
There was no need for second guessing.
However she could not love him
Nor tell him of her sorrow
And every day she pondered
how she'd make it to tomorrow.
This so-called 'love', this romance,
existed on borrowed time alone
And though she hated loneliness
He would never be home.