The thump of the door
closing one last time
topples the tower of cards
we built together.
From our chair
I reach and pull
an ace of hearts
but a crack splits
the middle and all
I have left are
jagged shards.
Every piece I try salvage
cuts and bleeds
my heart till it numbs
and my face forgets
the feel of a smile.
Nothing can last forever
and I begin by building
a solid foundation for
one.
YOU ARE READING
Waiting for the Rain to Fall
PoetryPoems that twine thread around the broken bits of a soul, that fling umbrella lips into beaming buckets and kind of just make you want to say, "life is beautiful, isn't it?" - a totally unbiased review from me, the author.
