Pennies & hearts

The cot was beside me

so I was definitely around

seven years old.

Night had fallen, over

and across the thick brick walls

and the amber street lights.

In silence, I twitched the curtains

open to peep at the stars,

push the window ajar

and rip the sugarpaper

in between my palms

to pieces.

The torn ink

held the exact amount

of Christmas money

to the penny

I had won and lost

in a week, because

bills had to be paid.

And I know this

to be my deepest truth;

as I played he loves me,

he loves me not,

I realised callous hearts

sound and look just like

their kinder counterparts.

 


Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Available internationally

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