As I walk
along these
empty chances
of broken dreams
Sometimes
its best to leave
should there be pieces
for me to pick up.
And yet you sweep
even the tiniest debris
that I too
so shall time
can never mend
your crumbled
broken heart.
But that's alright
albeit, no matter -
how blind am I
nor how you're done
with love,
Am a stubborn soul
with an improbable luck
aiming still
shooting uncertain
these broken arrows
in the dark.