March 19, 2011

May 13th, 2011 by Karen

spreading red
screams my silent failure to the world
bereft of a gift made of sand
slipping through anguished fingers

a nothing
a noone

to everyone
except my soul
who counts the exacting toll
like thorns shoved deep in a palm

the wound mends
yet the rent and rendered flesh is never again whole
forever mismatched
cobbled together with unevenly spaced stitches

thousands before and thousands after
stars that gutter and fade
blink and they’re gone

but one
this one
briefly mine
left a spreading stain
on my heart

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