I took his heart into my keeping,
never imagining how fragile it might be.
He was a warrior, cut from steel,
durable like masculine rawhide leather.
He must have branded me, I can still
smell him on my skin, sandalwood and vanilla.
Sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night,
I can feel his breath at the nape of my neck,
like a whisper, and then it’s gone.
They say a heart once broken, remains that way forever.
I was careless, taking risks, defying the odds.
He’d go to the ends of the earth for me.
I should have put his heart away for safe keeping,
but I was known for breaking hearts.
He was my warrior after all, invulnerable.
He thought he could tame my wild spirit, but in the end,
I broke the stallion’s heart, into a million little pieces.
Sometimes, when I’m walking in a crowd of people,
I can still feel his hand on mine.