Along the boulevard of broken dreams, sitting, staring blankly the horizon and hoping a caring hand to take you where do broken hearts go?
I know one common place most broken hearts go. A place where they can find privacy but not peace, a temporary shelter to comfort a bleeding heart, it’s the bedroom and a pillow. I am sure every pillow has its own story to tell, of broken promises, failed relationship of endless nights of sob and tears. Every room witness different stories of happiness, sorrow, triumph and sad goodbyes. A place anyone would run to, whenever we wantto escape from reality of this world.
Along the beach, watching sea birds fly while listening to the waves where no one hears you cry. Waiting for the sun to set until darkness spread and no one sees your tears. I am sure even the sand knows ifthe tears that fall down express sadness or happiness. Even a seagull knows to distinguish who among the crowd is solitary by heart. The sunray knows to point a wounded heart seeking solace like the sunset leaving daylight with darkness.
Maybe in a park, with people around, you may find a little comfort from an angel in disguise. From the strangers smile you may will feel a little care brushing your hair. If only those benches can speak, I am sure each one has something to share you with. To make you feel you are not alone, to make you know how many broken hearts ever seated there shedding tears, cursing someone, blaming love. Even the tree knows a secret, of lovers, promises, some failed and some success stories.