Bleeding hearts don’t cry aloud –
They gasp and hold it in,
Guarding all their sacred parts,
Held by chains within.
They fear so much rejection
And avoid love like a curse,
For what’s a heart if it’s broken?
Is a cold heart really worse?
A cold heart doesn’t bruise inside –
It’s too numb to even care,
And while it may stop pumping blood,
At least it is still there.
But though the walls around the heart
Protect the heart inside,
It also keeps the goodness out,
And provides a place to hide.
Band-aids can’t fix broken hearts,
Or heal the bullet holes;
They can’t stop the bleeding wounds
Deep inside the soul.
Though sometimes it’s the paper cuts
That sting so sharp, so quick,
It’s the knife wounds that cut deep inside
With dull aches that make you sick.
Bleeding hearts don’t cry aloud,
They whimper in the night,
And greet the daylight with scathing tongues,
Ready for a fight.
It’s not because they just don’t care
Or love lesser than the rest,
It’s because they once gave up their heart,
And loved a bit too much.