Failure a ruthless painter 
splatters my soul with its tainted brush,
Staining the fabric of my hope,
Shredding the canva of  my ambition.
Eroding the castle/ fortress of my desires, it washes away the footprints of progress.
I am left stranded in bottomless sea of missed opportunity
collecting the shattered pieces of my expectations.

Failure

The needle drops, and
there is a light pull
on a lover's hand

The needle lifts to rest once again
Fingers brush, not sure
if they are permanent

A multiplicity of canva
Each being filled
With a lover's new muse

The needle drops
Fingers brush, never
To touch again