A Broken Heart Speaks Poem by malcomess mantewu

Knives are sharp but words are sharper.
Poison is bad but words are the worst.
In your presence I found comfort.
But in your absence I'm suffering immensely.
Hearts are meant to pump up blood but why does mine feel like it's producing naive butterflies?

Life is disagreeing with the majority of my decisions.
And love seems like it has banned me from entering.
My heart still asks about you, you know...
It sings and dances, hoping and praying that you'll eventually join it.
A broken heart speaks not because it wants to set the record straight.
It speaks because it has deceived it's owner into thinking being quiet means accepting defeat.

Our short lived affair is eternally written on our memories.
I attempted to tear the pages off and burn the book but abusing an innocent book won't shush my invisible memories.

Memories are flames.
It's either they burn you to the ground or warm you up inside.
Cherish happy memories they say.
But what do we do with the memories that are cutting us into thousand possibly million pieces?
The above question was meant to be a rhetoric question until I heard a voice answering.
You push them at the back of your mind, and simply endure their tormenting echoes!
A broken heart spoke today, and sadly I'm the only person who heard..