Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2020
I'm done, take the bag from my back.
Take the coat from my shoulders and let me fall.
All of my insecurities, all of my dreams,
Have lead me here.

Where are you in my coldest hours?
In the moments I stand still.
Broken by the shards of life that blew up in your face,
Not the ones that fell from mine.

I take each step I can, facing forward;
Etching onward, slowly and oblivious.
But you coax me to you,
You bring me back to you.

Letting go of the belief,
Of the intent I stacked up in your favour.
Letting go of it was the hardest thing,
So I couldn't do it. I never did.

Sitting in that booth, face to face:
Colours flickered, the world glitched.
Those shards of me, the broken pieces,
They trembled softly.

Each one lifted by the desire,
Troubled by the change.
I tried to collect them up,
I wanted to, more than anything.

Instead I left them there,
I did not break them further,
And I pulled myself back to reality.
Out of stillness.

And though the shards remain,
They have been smoothed at the edges.
They are not sharp to touch,
But they will never fit again.
16 January 2020

© All Rights Reserved Joanne Heraghty
Joanne Heraghty
Written by
Joanne Heraghty  F/Dublin, Ireland
(F/Dublin, Ireland)   
139
       G Alan Johnson, Perry and GENIE
Please log in to view and add comments on poems