Her heart breaks
its core vein torn
an eruption of blood
the helplessness of white cells.
Here are her hands holding such pain.
See her tears sliding across the tracks of her face.

There’s the sound of a heart breaking
like flies making love, punishing her ears
annoyed nails declare war
the bomb explodes
into the flavor of his lips
Red Bull in mouths, she loses again.
Covered in a blanket
hiding her eyes from the lamp –
its grin, a shameful white. 

When her heart rips apart
she walks off into a donkey skin.
She add wings to her shoulders
prepares to fly away
and the lamp vomits its brightness

Flowers on wallpaper
become her only friends
and hit her head with petals
the extreme wounds turning their heads
black and blue like hers.

When a woman’s heart crashes
it reminds her of suppressed people’s rights.
Instead she watches the Gandhi film
though justice cannot calm her down
even the end of Mom’s aching moans
Homework won’t save her.
Terrifying failures don’t provoke her.

When people’s hearts shatter
they tire of rules
throw stones at others’ shoes.

When the impoverished heart
wears out
no one blames capitalism.

When the feminist’s heart smashes
she doubts the story of a woman who survived 
the husband’s knife – the damaged heart
in a southern province.

When the poetry warden’s heart escapes
it travels too far, frightened.
It marries the moon
then dies in the road.

She finds a faithful dog’s spirit
in thoughts of a gentleman’s shirt
and some white flowers
from where no one ever dared to go. 

She realizes her heart is a copy of herself:
Homeless, hollow, unlucky
dreaming of a shelf
in a safe room to rest.

A true love may come
if time does not preserve her future
risking messages
on Facebook profiles.

Two smart sentences, a smart IQ
those are her dreams of him
along with a sexy dress to wear

Like seaweed floating on the water’s surface
greedy pieces of her heart reassemble to one another
in a hope shop; she bought something to
feed a love so no one will mind.

She googles: Why are so many hearts broken?
Each reason resembling the next and the next 
She adds the faithful dog spirit
to her own quiet heart:
Oh look! A suit and a wedding dress –
in the closet of her imagination. 

By Hajar

Photo by Roozitaa