I Wrote This In The Back Of Rachel's Car, While Everyone Was Talking About Weekend Plans

This took up over 800 characters on my phone. I wrote this after seeing Beginners, a fantastic movie by the way. I channeled Ewan McGregor's character from the movie sort of. I asked myself, "What would his character write about his character, if his character had to write about his character, then Ewan McGregor had to write that". I ended up with someone with a sorrowful heart, who does not want to be full of grief and sadness, but just wants to be happy. But, in the end knows that all it will ever be is full of sorrow, with the hope that one day it will change.


And I made the end rhyme by accident, I swear.

I am a poet it and did not even not it.


So without out further adieu, I give you memos 22-26 on my phone:
Also known as:
My Sorrowful Heart.
But also known as:
I think my first prose poem.
But mostly just known as:
My Sorrowful Heart.

My Sorrowful Heart.
A sorrowful heart bleeds black and blue, when it just wants to bleed red like the others. It chooses the wrong words and moments, when it just wants to do its best to help. It can make a moment full of life seize to exist, without even the slightest of skill. It can make the highest of highs crash to its lowest point in a fire filled glory. A sorrowful heart knows love. A sorrowful knows not of love. It tries on emotions like hats. Content, then lively, then back to where it feels best. Pumping black and blue, while all it wants is to pump red. A sorrowful heart wears a smile as a mask, and a mask as a smile. Behind it, it pumps all the colors of the spectrum. It pumps the greenest of greens and the maroonest of maroons. It can be strong, it could be weak. It can be it. A sorrowful heart longs for its own. Though it can never find it. For, the mask it wears, has no room for it's eyes. A sorrowful heart mends every heart but it's own, because it never tries. It just continues to pump black and blue till the day it dies.