All love stories that come to an end,
Bitten sleeves, broken hearts, bitter ends.
They seem infinite and tangent one day,
Dead-ends and elusive the next.
A heart more broken than the other,
Some eyes redder, glazed,
But pain has never been fair.
These broken hearts must know a place,
To lick your wounds, hide the scars,
Open gashes, closed mouths.
That place must be magic,
A pillow to dry your tears,
Memories to warm your soul,
A potion to erase them all.
So where do these broken hearts go?
To look for another chance;
For fresh starts and new hearts,
Same dramas with different parts,
Days-of-old stories, new laughs,
Scary stakes, staunch cards,
I want to go too.