Wednesday, May 21, 2014


You drop a glass it shatters 
into dozens of pieces. 
You crack a heart it shatters into 
hundreds of thousand of words. 
You break a spirit it shatters 
into a lifetime of despair.
Maybe poems are called pieces 
because each one mends 
whatever is broken inside of you.
Whenever demons try to 
unscrew the sky out of you, 
you write them into an oblivion 
of poems and watch the life slowly 
leak out of their eyes and back into yours; 
the blood spill out of their invisible 
wounds and onto your pages.
I know it may not sound like 
much of an happy ending, 
but when you’re able to envision 
again I promise you’ll see a new beginning.


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