Cold Little Heart

My cold little heart is as broken as the past I feel like a piece of art that has be torn apart 

I have seen the light and darkest corners of the world

This room is my home 

This wall is my stability which supports me through these turbulence times

But the rhyme of failure rings deep into my hollow frame
I have no shame in the scars that have become ingrained within my frame 

Life continues the same 

I don’t blame my situation on the other paintings in the room 

It is their home too
My life has been on display 

For all to see, my imperfections 

I portray myself as a ‘perfect picture’ 

But, my life has become a mixture of despair and isolation 
Hanging in the gallery

I wait patiently for someone to look into my eyes, into my soul
But, they continue round

Looking with a disapproving brow at my incomplete image 

I feel diminished having to compare myself with the other pictures in the gallery 

With other souls that are trying to climb out of the same hole
My meormoreis

My thoughts our engraved in the canvas 

This has become my home, behind the glass

Whilst I hold my cold little heart 

Trying to protect it from this cruel world which has created a mist of pain and silence 
All I need is a glimmer of hope 

A friend to look me directly in the eye instead of saying goodbye 

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About Rosie Burnham

Twitter: @Rosie_Burnham Blog: Huffingpost Blog: Very Loose Women (ResonanceFM): Women's Health Magazine (Strong Minds Issue):