those hands which once felt like home <br />seems to the the same hands <br />casting the stones, <br />i wish i could offer my help, <br />but your heart is cold <br />all wickedness has taken its tole <br />and slowly she breaks <br />her heart no longer has what it takes <br />to strive through the night <br />fragile to touch, sensitive <br />to words, a broken frame <br />held up by a nail <br />no longer eligible <br />a picture that deserves a thousand takes <br />a thousand glances no chance for mistake <br />let me mend your heart <br />heal your crimson touch <br />ignite your spark <br />that was once lost <br />amount of lust, passion and love<br /><br />Robert Roberts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-heart-11/
