In a crowded time
strewn with half hopes
and long wishes,
I was trapped between broken
sliding doors
You found me,
dragged at the core of my being,
turning it
inside out
Hidden depths of me
displayed,
like a secret library of
gathered fragments
of lost thoughts
You saw the misarranged words
in my head,
stories
not yet written,
and placed each word
carefully into a wonderful new book
But the paper cuts
were razor sharp,
lies bled like spilled ink;
now life is tightly packed
with fear and bitterness
And the beauty of the book
is so fragile,
tomorrow’s touch
will crumble it
to fine ashes,
waiting to be blown away
on another promise
of wasted breath
Adding your comment:
