Bleeding Heart

One sole droplet
from the fragile pink shape.
It hangs there,
never to hit ground.

It hangs there,
taunting those who watch.
Held captive inside the heart,
never to be let go.

the flower hangs there,
while prying,
mischievous
eyes are set upon it.
Then it endures more pain
than before.

Torn off of the stem,
the bleeding heart is crushed
with one close of the hand.

Maybe ripped down the middle,
so that inside shows through.
Not as pretty on the inside
Unless pain is understood.

No longer thought of as perfect,
No longer thought of as superior.

Others watch from their bush,
all hanging from one stem.
It is their common link,
it is what holds them together.

Now the bleeding heart
is off of them stem,
forgotten on the ground.
No common link
is shared anymore.
Left there to stay until found,
when it can be ripped apart again.