A chronicle of the misadventures of a would be writer

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Bangles




Pixie dust,
Dream debris,
Shards of hope
Molded in
Foolish optimism.
They prick,
they scratch:
I bleed.
I still wear them proudly
Jangling on my wrists

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Broken Heart Pieces



Alone and barefoot,
Numb with cold
Walking over
An hourglass' lost soul
I stepped on some
Broken heart pieces.

The pain took time
To fool the guarding numbness
And be known.
But it wasn't the pain
Of trampling
Some heart's shards.

I had been so busy
Keeping it safe,
Far far away,
I never noticed
You breaking my heart
And walk away.