Blood of Glass

My soul is in such pain that I often wonder….

If I slit my wrists

Instead of blood

Would shards of my broken heart fall out?

 

Read Full Post »

Heart Rain

“Where does the rain come from?”, she asked so innocently.

I could tell her of the Cumulonimbus clouds,

I could tell her of pollution and chemicals,

I could tell her of the ways of nature and rebirth,

Or I could tell her the ways of a broken heart.

“I do not know”, I say

“But my cheeks are always wet.”

Read Full Post »