Glass Shards
When time hangs
like glass shards
after the break
is there a moment
where poems form
or dreams die?
Bled from cut hands
by word or surrender,
pieces of ourselves
sacrificed to the chasm
of ancient grief.
April 12, 2023
When time hangs
like glass shards
after the break
is there a moment
where poems form
or dreams die?
Bled from cut hands
by word or surrender,
pieces of ourselves
sacrificed to the chasm
of ancient grief.
April 12, 2023