The Winter Sonnets

The Hidden Heart

The Hidden Heart

The joy of love too quickly fades away;
a photograph, forgotten 'neath the sun,
of happy times before love went astray;
too many might-have-beens we've left undone.

I sift through ashen thoughts within my mind;
remembrances of what once used to be.
I wander through deserted rooms and find
the remnants of our love in the debris.

Your perfume lingers on, a cruel charade.
A stack of letters, yellowed now with age;
inscriptions of the promises we made
now only empty words upon a page.

I place them in a box where no one sees
my broken heart amidst the memories.