If I thought you had no value

I’d let you fall apart.

Like trinkets in a storeroom

To once belonged a heart.

In worlds so unforgiving

where love’s a dying art,

it’s natural to be painted

like Van Gogh in the dark.

See candle light can guide you

but only goes so far,

don’t look beyond the shadows

for beatings of the heart.

For if you had no value

I’d let their theories win.

Like trinkets in a storeroom

Whose worth is found within.