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I grabbed the bag that holds my heart, and looked inside for all the parts.
What could be missing that acts as the glue,
That holds it altogether and pumps it through.
It must be love that feeds it life, and holds all the pieces tight.
What does it take to mend a broken heart and fill-in the gaps till it's all one part,
Will it take a lot of time to heal, or will it escape with just a bit glue.
What makes it pump in such beautiful rhythm,
Does it come natural, or is it a symptom?
Can this be purchased off a shelf like a toy, or is it something that warrants more?
Can you tell if your heart is smart, happy or sad, or does it whisper to you it's feeling bad?
Does it warn you of dangers ahead, by speeding up or slowing down?
Maybe it's afraid to because you never listen when it frowns.
Has it spoken before and went unheard, the warning blips that record the score.
And in that bag of parts are you sure everything is accounted for?
Can your heart be too tired to make the glue harden?
Does it have one more mend in its bag to bargain?
Or have I used up all options to mend my broken heart?
Will my heart ever feel that rhythm do flips?
Can the mend happen without the love,
Or will it need new love to generate beauteous rhythm?
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"My broken heart won'T mend" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 26 Oct. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/79152/my-broken-heart-won't-mend>.