you can call my heart
The Homeboy hotel,
And hand out 21 keys,
with a breath mint
And map to the garden,
Divided into quadrants
By hedges of white anemones
And black roses,
Thin lines, ever-present;
Like the violet, blue and green
adorning the pathway,
Like dots connected with red
Ropes binding,
Stretched across linchpins
And common pins and comons;
Things that we don't have
that surround and cage
Walls covered with memories
Penned down on pages burnt,
ashes turned to dust.
YOU ARE READING
heartbreak hotel.
Poetrywatch as i gather all this shrapnel, this worry and pain, and board it onto the backs of pickup trucks and pigeons, addressed to the landfill called my heart. - a collection of poems and prose about love, loss, healing and heartbreak.
