NT ( / Ireland)

Fragmented

Fragmented

Thoughtless deed
drowning
the tender loving day.
I grieve it's wake -
washed-weary hours
where a tablet cannot curb
the spin-dry mind.

I still see your face-
the open wound
searching mine
in hurt confusion
and the wrenching silence;
too late now,
and much too soon.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 1 votes )

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