Hope

A tiny piece of my heart stitches itself back together

I am capable of laughter,

I am still capable of dreaming once again.

When the night grows late

and my thoughts slip into bed,

my heart rules.

And my heart, once twisted and pounded and slashed and scarred, too beaten and broken to dare to love and to laugh...

That heart dares to feel poetry once more.

To view the world as a wistful romantic dream, waiting and, dare I say, hoping, for those dreams to sweep it up and away.

Vulnerable.

A heart still half broken, but mended just enough to stretch open once more.

My heart rejoices in this vulnerable love.

No matter how painful it might be.

For what is the heart, if not love?

And that love is what beats inside of me.