I call this one... Egg Poem. Not much ring to that...

Break, heart, and be done.

Crack like an egg, expell your gold,

Be barren, empty, dry.

Don't grieve, for what never really lived

Can never really die.

Don't look for the tiny, featherless bird;

If you see it, close your eyes.

The little love that was never born

Was never meant to fly.

Break, heart, and be done.

(I know it sounds a little angsty. There's nothing really new going on. It came to me as an image, though, a new way to look at some old things I've been working on.)