Worn
She was a muse
In the hands of those
Who handled her poorly
Who built castles in the sky
Upon her shattered smile
With the fractured pieces of her heart
Without regard for her unguarded while
To devour her like used rags
And recycled paper
“SHE WAS A MUSE IN THE HANDS OF THOSE WHO HANDLED HER POORLY”
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I needed you to stayOn the nights I clamoured at the windWith claws made of tremours
Morningtide
Only in the morning Does the sunlight emanate like fireflies in the dark
Brother May I
Lay me down by the riversideJust beside the water’s edgeThat I may bathe In the warmth of your
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