Her eyes are withdrawn from her surroundings.
And black with mascara tears.
If you look deeper into them.
You find the slow path to her fears.
Her lips are red with violence.
Screaming for more than they get.
They pout in the name off passion.
Yours to kiss with all regret.
Her hands are soft and loving.
Seduction in order to teach.
But her arms are always aching
For the lengths she has to reach.
Her face is hiding something with the mask she wears each day.
Though her beautys obvious, they push her far away.
Her spirit is cold and tired.
Her soul is battered and bruised.
Every time she begs to leave.
Her request is soon refused.
And it's at night where her eyes close
That's where the pain starts
As she's left alone to wonder
The land of broken hearts.
Carla Nestoros
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-land-of-broken-hearts/
