Promises to a Broken Heart

I don’t believe in promises, shooting stars, or rainbow dreams.

I did when I was a kid, maybe because I knew my parents thought it was cute.

Maybe I didn’t know better.

Back then love wore tight jeans and roller-skated on Saturday nights.

Love didn’t hurt back then when winter days were cold and ice cream was a treat.

Pride was a a new pair of shoes and a ride to school in dads new car.

When the front door of life opened I was standing there and I took two steps.

Alone where they promised I would rule the world and the wind held my dreams.

Dreams lie and promises are just nice things people say to each other when there is nothing to say at all.

I promise everyday it will get better.

So I will walk through this journey they call life looking back from time to time to that place

where band aides made the hurt feel better and spring followed the cold winter of a broken heart.

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