Finally my heart is broken;
but I do not mean to sound dramatic,
for it is not smashed or heaped in pieces,
incapable of completing its beating —
it simply no longer works as before.
Its timing runs strange and unfamiliar,
somewhat aimless yet also free
of the pressure to stay reliable,
to keep time with the heart of another.
Although it does so clumsily,
it now beats only for me.

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September 13, 2020

Very nice poem.  😊