Literally,
Every day,
I could take my heart out,
Crush it into mere powder,
Wipe it off with a mop,
And start off afresh
in a neat white lounge
with my wind chimes
playing the music of my heart
Me curled up in my arabic throw
Listening to the silence of the rain
which never visited
and lots more.. lots more..
But then, there it is,
pounding and bleeding
dying and crying,
Keeping me alive
but still dead yet again.
I write... 
Its simple but touching one's heart.
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Thank you Peter 🙂
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