Washed Up

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Tossed aside like flotsam
carried on your breaking wave.
I tumble to the sand,
a single piece of something more
forgotten and broken.
 
It isn't like I blame you
you know I never could.
The allure of something new
something shiny,
something whole.
 
To fix a broken thing
takes time and so much more
it takes a patient ear,
a soothing tongue,
a calm embrace.
 
I don't expect that
you will want to face
the blackness in my mind.
The bleak and hollow echoes
that thump from in my heart.
 
So as your wave recedes
and I am left upon the beach,
remember me in future days
this broken, fragile thing
now, sadly, out of reach.

 

◄ Mind Over Matter

All Saints ►

Comments

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Francine

Wed 10th Aug 2011 23:30

This is incredibly beautiful in its sadness...

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