On the ground,
Reflections of our trust lay shattered like tossed away mirrors.
We know better not to pick up the pieces,
Since we’ve hurt ourselves trying to fix the past enough already,
Plus these hands aren’t steady.
They still tremble from the ice left in my veins.
They still ache, from…
I’ve had writers block lately, only being able to complete one stanza. Then I realized sometimes one stanza is all you need to get your point across. My first considered complete poem since January…
What is a puzzle with no picture?
Pieces.. which is also what a love poet calls his poetry,
and how he describes the condition his past has left him in,
and how feels when looking up at the stars and wonders….
what pieces of stardust did she come from?