Poems · Uncategorized · writing

Wandering, Wondering

I’m wandering through machinations, trepidations, my stipulations

Casting out hands like broken wings, taking flight through this suffering

She’s a little bird again, yes she

Her fragile heart wrought with ingenuity

My skin reacts to these attacks as each crack fissures an open wound

Oozing out these wanderings I’m wondering

Don’t I mean anything to you?

Broken, shifted, the pain is mended

Tied up with strings and sealing wax, it should have ended

And I’m struggling to write a tune.

Missing, missing, that sweet ache is missing

Her bleeding heart leaves a trail through this room

(Tomb)

They sing and I cry,

I dance and you sigh,

“I can’t see you again anytime soon, my love, no I can’t see you anytime soon.”

Wait.

Gone, now, all gone.

I move along,

And left on the floor behind me,

All tissue and muscle, steadily beating useless part,

Useless heart

Obsolete.