I hand no one my heart
An ode to broken hearts
By Danika MoirPublished 2 years ago • 1 min read
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Is love not eternal suffering?
To hand someone your heart on a golden platter with their favourite flowers, only for them to tell you they can no longer stand the smell of peonies.
To envision a life with your love, only to watch them wither away before your skin wrinkles and hair has the chance to turn grey.
To have your sun tear your heart from your chest with a smile on their face, only to have them drop it by the gutter to rot.
I anguish enough on my own; I have no need for company.
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About the Creator
Danika Moir
I'm a jill of all trades artist from Toronto, Ontario. Soon I'd like to be able to work as a full time artist but, until then my feet stay on the ground with my 9 to 5.
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