The Puppet Master

January 19, 2014

An image of fairest form, Lies atop my chest, Mocking my heart, which is yet warm, Cold and silent, together we rest. She pulled at my strings, Making a marionette of my heart. Thumbs pressed on touchscreen Hiding hollow dimples and charm. Memories in megabytes in her purse That rest forgotten With discarded thoughts of remorse Aside wooden puppet-hearts gone […]