The matter of the heart

I am a poet of pain
Behind my word of the dark,
hope lingers,
sits and waits.

Your eye strikes a narrow path,
Mind assuming the worst and the low,
Branding my heart broken,
My mind dismayed.

But behind my dark words,
There is a light, trapped.
I seek only an equal in pain,
A broken piece of my two.

Love to me stands a riddle,
Unknown,
As the biggest lie we seek to grasp.
What I desire is not passion,
What I crave is not the matter of the heart.

I seek merely your compassion,
Your understanding of the damage done.
As inner peace is more valid,
Then any matter of the heart.

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