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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Heaven & Earth
Heaven don’t speak to me nowIn prose made of unreachable dreamsIn delicate dander
Godspeed
I released him todayThe trials and tribulations that engulfed meonce upon an autumnal gaze
Paper
It only took a penTo rewrite the courseI spoke in inkIn sentences made of tousled hair
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