Completeness

Completeness, 

The word still, 

Struggles to hold up, 

My broken heart. 

The day is the same, 

The heart with the same, 

Kind of feeling and numbness, 

Like the blank heart beats, 

With emotions filled, 

In between the spaces, 

My every breath, 

When the last piece of crayon, 

Of my favorite color,

From my tiny fingers, 

Faded with the art of the grass, 

The grass, in the painting,

Hanging on the wall, 

Preserved as my first art, 

Still thanks me whenever I see it, 

But I never ask it, 

The promise it did to me, 

Lend me, love, I will return it for sure! 

Was that only for Nature,

And not for the human heart?