Poor, poor heart

wounded in a particular place

where I hid a particular name

I reached the end of my capacity

to recover from this raging agony

it goes on and on an endless time

my poor, poor heart was on the line

what is to be done

lying down

in her naked sun

it overpowered me 

as an incoming wave

I was told

there was no longer

 a room or place for me

my poor, poor heart

almost jumped its case

I was so surprised

at what hit me at the time

my poor, poor heart

almost lost its mind

I gazed in disbelieve

at what was coming over me

a woman

perfect as far as I could see

wounded a particular place in me

something kept me alive

in these perilious times

irony it was, I was cured by someone

I, in many days hadn't thought of

finally when I came to rest

my poor, poor heart came apart

in tenthousand pieces,

collected one by one

by someone I hardly knew anything of

I was build, ev'ry second, minute

back to what I was

my poor, poor heart

mended from the past

(c) JR.