Broken Ribs

The broken ribs of love
his hand was never a glove.

My hand is so cold and bare
I am running away as fast as a mare.

I cannot deal with the broken ribs
without crying like a little kid.

There is so much pain
how am I sane?

I want him out of my mind
but he is too kind.

Too kind to stay out of my heart
in my eye he is a work of art.

But it hurt to see him
to see him with Kim.

Not me.
It's never me.
My broken heart feels
like broken ribs.