a house of cards toppled or a bully kicking the sandcastle of a young architect
a puzzle falling apart as you are just about to glue it to make a permanent image
a broken cigarette unable to be fixed like
a torn heart on the day of a fathers passing
the same day you wake up to a note on your stomach that spells out everything
in broken scrawl.
I've washed my hands a thousand times,
but the red will not come off.
2 comments:
Hi, I don't know if I've commented on your blog before but I've stopped by a couple of times. I like your style, some of it is quite cryptic and I imagine some quite personal but I can relate to certain posts and still admire the ones where the meaning is lost on me.
I will definitely be stopping by some more. Thanks.
This reminds me why i keep coming back to your blog.
Fresh, articulate, bold, sharp and precise.
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