"The world doesn't care for a broken heart, my dear."
"Oh, but surely it does!
Have you never noticed that quietness
at dawn?
The silence that comes from a broken heart's
mourning
that occassionally echoes the on going traffic
like the slow beating of a heart
that's hurting but healthy?"
"And, have you not picked up on
the clouds,
that mask the sun, who,
on some days, isn't brave enough to see the world?"
"Oh, and what about the rain?
That scrubs off the scent of its
former lover;
that caresses the pavement
on perfect pathways
that you'd walk along,
hand in hand."
"And how about all the trees?
That bare all once the summer romance
has ended -
each leaf lying in a crumpled mess
on the floor."
"That may be, my friend -
but the world still spins,
and people still flutter past you on the streets
like busy butterflies -
all, none the wiser of your heart
that is hurting, but healthy."
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