Wild hearts don't get broken.

by Poet on the Piano   Dec 19, 2015

Perked up on Ecstasy, the other day she snorted happiness
from a Motel 8 bathroom, from his mouth,
stale with alcohol and two-day-old bread and acrid vomit.

The city knows no limits.
Her heart keeps on giving some synthetic kind of love.
The lights need to stop.
She needs to stop.
The lies keep on flushing through her veins.
"I belong to the wild" tattooed on her ribs in violet ink.

Honestly though? She doesn't belong to anyone.
Not to the drugs or the chipped teeth he owns
or the smug smile she receives from the dealer
when she reassures him tenfold that she
"took care of" the morning sickness...
but she's always nauseous these days.

Dignity is everything. Dignity is nothing.
Self-respect spoon fed, boiled, burned to the bottom.

San Francisco. Los Angeles. Vegas. New York.

The names never mattered.
The men kept piling up around her, massacres of the past.
They died for nothing.
They lived for what they thought was everything.

She, constantly accused of selling a wicked heart, wielded metal.

Nothing could ruin her now. Nothing could set her heart aflame.

The broken girl who used to catch dreams at gentlemen clubs
and skater parks and in rebounds and vigorous break-up
sex is now stuck in an undisclosed time.

She holds no gender. She holds no age.

She is too wild to be controlled...

Written while listening to "Wicked Games" by: The Weeknd


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Latest Comments

  • 3 years ago

    by Maple Tree

    Judging comment

    Mary Anne has written an in depth look at a true wild heart. what a powerful and tasteful poem she has written this week!

    an inside look at addiction and how devastation can overtake the untamed heart. I was mesmerized by her word choice and the way she wrote this. Just a wonderful and inspirational poem!

  • 3 years ago

    by Bob Shank

    Loved the raw reality of this piece, and I'm happy it got the recognition it deserved, you depicted it as it really is in reality...awesome job, congrats.

  • 3 years ago

    by - Mr. Darcy

    Congratulations. A well deserved win.

    Take care.


  • 3 years ago

    by Dagmar Wilson

    This certainly caught my eye. Add to my favorite

  • 3 years ago

    by - Mr. Darcy

    This poem has transfixed me. This story is painfully sad and reflects aspects that I recognise in others and even myself to some degree.
    Her pain was born before the skater park days though. Such lack of dignity and respect stems from earlier days. Perhaps this story is even harder to tell?
    You have skillfully woven her life of sex, drugs and weilding her heart of metal. Nothing will hurt that, not anymore. Another lie, but I fear she knows thats the biggest lie of all.

    A fantastic write and one thats gone into my favourites.

    Take care,