Of this regret is nothing left
Forgotten like the tears on panes
Of glass. The morning springs a new
Beginning with the dew. The pain,
Like spiny grass upon bare feet
That serves to tingle and remind
Of darker times from previous nights.
I might remember feats that bare
My soul, once darkened, now made whole
Renewed, unburdened by what's left.
YOU ARE READING
Bite-Sized Poetry
PoetrySome things are best read in short bursts, like little snacks in the middle of a busy day. While you're busy feeding your body, I want to help fuel your mind and imagination.
