Your name wrung
between the lines of
fresher tender cuts.
Brushing a slower finger
over dusty pages,
disturbing untold stories
that was long untouched.

Your name is
the tap-tap of hammer nails
and the crimson consummator.

The barricading name,
of the mesmeric temple of apologies
molded by unequivocal agony and anger
lying in the bleak moor
laced with your remnants.

My mind is left shambled on the floor,
shards of memories
now leaking as exudate
am I being inflamed?

If I were to paint this across the canvas,
it’d be red, blue then purple
a galaxy with mismatched constellations
on a rippled fabric of night skies.

If I were to ink you to paper,
tracing you in black
you’d diffuse, cry and leak
into a pool of red,
dripping at the edge of the paper.

You are the cactus
pricking with every temptation.

The one engrained in my figmentation
wrapped in lessons
coloring the pigmentation of my skin
with various hues.

You are the open wound
with the fabricated scab.

You are the name
that rings inside my head,
echoing through my memories
trembling shakes, tremors
through the cronies
widening the past a little
more within me.

she
       was
              sharper
                            than
                                    shards
                                                of
                                                    icicle
                                                             glass

As my love for you never fades
The shards of ice you pierced in my heart
Will never go away
Though five months have passed
You are on my mind when I drive by your old place
How when we were little we played in that bright, green grass
Now your touch reminds me of broken glass
Our music sounds like nails on a chalkboard
Though I try I can't forget the past
I dream of you every dark night
I wonder why you changed
But people never stay still in life
At least that remains the same
Though your betrayal left a gaping hole in my chest
I never stop waiting for your call
I hope one day my wandering mind will be at rest
Until then I will always feel lost and small

We live within a world full of glass.
Where light and sight
are strayed when they pass...

The things we see;
monsters that loom...
Twisted creatures all around me.

Razor shards sting;
gashes with each step.
Screams from the people ring.

through the pieces lives the demons face.
A terrible, ungodly sight.
Yet, it took me to a familiar place.

Just then became plain to see
the closer I came to the shard.
This is a world of mirrors

The creature is me.

I used to think I was messy broken

Let me explain

Like a stray rock,
chipped from a bat in some sandy back lot
Through a window
Now shattered

Through. Done. Finished.

My splintered little pieces scattered to the winds
And me, running after those small bits
Like they were loose handouts in a windy parking lot
Scrambling to catch hold of
My life
My dignity
My sanity
My love

But

The only way to amend
Is complete replacement

For I am now irreparable

The intensity with which we shatter,
Those what’s-left-of-us shards that cut you deep,
Brokenness and jagged edges matter,
When prices paid with pieces feels too steep.

Only two things cause our own destruction—
We’re broken from without or from within.
The damage goes beyond reconstruction,
We can’t build what we built before again.

Cracked into piles of debris on the floor,
The remnants of escaped emotion’s cage,
Whose seething burn couldn’t take it anymore,
Disposing of it disrespects its rage.

We’re broken so that something is released,
Those shards remind us what we have to do.
To put them back is just what matters least,
But don’t cut yourself making something new.