PJ Swift

How eternal is the broken heart?

How eternal is the broken heart?

She walks with labored, heavy steps

A lifetime of accumulated regrets

Sorrows burden her gait

through the floorboards

Her dull echoes reverberate.

Yet her years have been marbled too

with assorted joys—

as not to exaggerate.

And her fragile smile,

disarming, wise, often indicates

Still, none should claim her steps, those silent pains

have no worth.

Her private heartache remains tangible, sincere—

dozens of years

since she's left

this earth.

Identical papers

The paper had the exact same sizing, strength, grain and texture.  The ink possessed the exact same viscosity and color. Indeed, to the milligram, the same amount was applied to the paper.

Materially, scientifically, the two written documents were virtually identical.  But one was considered an exalted work of literary art; the other document, a mediocrity, little more than idle drivel. 

And when the fires came, they both burned equally well. 

Incineration

The moths all came to the light,

and the fires burned—

but their flames

danced only in minds,

frolicking in frenzied shadows,

warping wake and dream,

incinerating none

but the innocent.