She bestowed, “hero,”
Upon my broken brow,

Come the other hand that’d
caress my limp ivory ankle.

And I’d offer only tales,
The fables wrought one –

Someone, far away.

So to, the bedridden,
She’d drop a grape.

A majestic purple,
Incomparable, my tear;

And I’d offer only love,
Not to her,

But the one who’d spite.

The cosmos are deaf,
and mute, too.

We are the beings
who strut about
muttering words
we turn into stories.

We then call these tales
our lives and blame
them on the cosmos.

The cosmos can't hear
our pathetic laments
and wouldn't care
if it could.

It is too busy
just being the cosmos.

  ~mce

carnal scattering of
root and banished leaf,

merely human, the day
spreads maple leaves
like dark gusts of wind.

Last night I watched my own heart break
I watched as it slipped out of your hands
Fell to the concrete sidewalk right in front of me
Shattered, pieces scattering
Trying to hunt them all down as you walk away
Pretending nothing ever happened
I stoop down to carefully retrieve the tiny shards
Ouch.....I think one got me
Throw it in the box and keep going
My blood smudging a few pieces
Sighing as I double check for missed shrapnel
Doesn't look like there's any left
Head out on my not so merry way
I've been prepared for this
Pull out the super glue
Trying to figure out which piece is which
Where does this one go?
Ouch.....another one got me
Deeper this time
Pretend it never happened and keep working
Piecing together what's left of my heart
Finally placing the last piece
It looks nothing like my heart
Unless you stare for a few minutes
Then the recognition hits
This is it now
There's no going back to change it
I have to be extra careful
Might put it on a shelf
Display it as an example not to trust anyone