misplaced vulnerability

-
I placed my heart
in hands that mistook it for clay—
they did not sculpt,
they pressed fingerprints of ruin.
I spoke in rivers,
thinking I had found an ocean;
but you were only a thirsty stone,
drinking me without echo.
My truths came unclothed,
like dawn before the sun is ready,
and you—
you called it weakness, not light.
So I gather my scattered softness,
like broken calabashes after a careless feast,
learning slowly—
not every silence is safe to break.
© Bunguswa ™

Comments

  1. Anonymous27 March 2026 at 19:41

    Wow! Wow! Wow!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Amara Mercy27 March 2026 at 21:09

    Misplaced Heart is not a cry of heartbreak but a quiet autopsy of misdirected love.

    Bunguswa Brian crafts a speaker who does not just mourn what was lost, but interrogates where it was placed. The poem’s strength lies in its metaphors intimate cultural and cutting revealing that the deepest wounds are not from love that is denied, but from love that is misunderstood.

    ReplyDelete

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