A poem about secrets that suck, written in January

This Heart

This heart has been bruised
Pounded by the hammer of Death
Pa told me my Gramma was gone
Hiding under my bed
Not far enough
From bruises,
Purple and green and blue
The simple heart of a child

This heart has been cut
Sliced and stabbed by the knife of Rejection
Returned by the receiver of my naive affection
Hiding under Blankets
Not far enough
From cuts
Long and deep and bloody
The foolish heart of my youth

This heart has been stretched
Racked by the pangs of Loneliness
Family ties forced apart by infidelity
Hiding in a dark room
Not far enough
From the strain
Torturing, and agonizing
The fragile heart of a new mother

This heart has been broken
Torn to bits by the weight of a Secret
Why would the Guilty so burden the Fragile?
Hiding in plain sight
Nowhere is far enough
From the blow of the shrapnel
Shreding, tearing, ripping
Fragments of a heart that would give up