Everything breaks,
you announced
and indeed
it seemed true.
For words crash
into something haunted
like the blowing wind
on stormy nights
or this vengeful poem
I had spun.
They escaped from your mouth
spelling goodbyes
I scattered them around
into several pages of thinking
to feign wholeness and relief.
But you were right.
As my thoughts and pen
go round and round
I started breaking---
like the wind,
forever torn,
blowing constantly
round and round.
YOU ARE READING
Among the Broken Ones
PoesiaA collection of thoughts struggling to find some meaning.
