Some people think that pain refinesit embellishes beauty
That our hearts are just unrefined gold
waiting for the skilled hand of life's trade
That he spin's gold out of tears and blood
and forget that he dances on the grave of shells
of those who were the exception
The ones whose necks are imprinted with a strange design
Whose arms are scarred
Whose bodies are spilled over like a glass of red wine
Does anyone care to ask about the exceptions?
The ones who don't manage to spin a room full of gold
Maybe they'll say they did not repeat pinterest quotes enough
they're unaware of the wisdom of the "universe"
Or maybe just maybe hearts will shatter before they melt
My Kintsugi heart shatters and the art of lacing the bruised edges
with any thing I can is a privilege anyone still living is lucky to have
I'm lucky I still dance and that my heart still thumps loudly
when she thinks of love be it a thing or a person
That even when I didn't see something worth salvaging for poetry did
Kintsugi:Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique.
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Moonlight ( A collection of poems)
PoetryMy collection of recent poetry and older poems as well. Updated sporadically :) Contains mature topics