Mine is a shattered, tattered and scattered love. The pieces of my heart, when touched, crumble and fall apart.

So long ago, this did start, and not being so smart, my young heart, went along it's way, ready to give itself away.

As I aged, it did too, and before I knew, it was broken right in two, leaving me, broken, black and blue.

Then still, I went on, hoping to find another, which I could smother in my love, not stopping to think of, all the brokenness, all the sad nights full of stress.

Then again still, it was broken further by every woman who touched it, and before too long there was nothing much more, than just a pile of pieces, lying upon the floor.

So now, lessons learned, and the broken hearted stress, in turn, is gone away, leaving me alone to nurse my wounds day by day.