Yeah, I'm waking up alone.
I guess you were just being nice.
This feels unfair.
And I don't even want you to save me.
See them close the doors and walk to bed,
and you are no moon.
All the second chances, seized and rescued before that little fracture.
That break that will never be mended.
And all these boys.
Careful hearts in careful hands.
Falling, but never broken on the floor.
But I feel the cold hard earth.
Ten million pieces and all the ways
you let me die on the ground.
I'm walking to the end of the earth.
I will find my gentle hands.
1 comments:
Hi Sam - good luck, and more, with your yard sale.
Saw your post this evening (everywhere you go . . . ) tonight and it brought a haiku that I wrote with a shattered heart some years ago . . .
Everywhere I go
There I am. Everywhere I
am, there you are.
Where in OZ are you headed? Peace, Scott
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