Saturday, December 15

broken hearts

on days like this we try to explain things
the truth is
there are no explanations
some things are just senseless

we look at the shattered pieces
dazzling shards
and try to arrange them
into what-might-have-beens

none of the arrangements
are satisfying
so we begin again
slicing open our hands on the sharp edges

we say
somewhere buried in the ashes
there must be meaning
there must be lessons


but perhaps that is the lesson:
that there isn't one
that every day is a random gift
to unwrap or throw away

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