January 3, 2010

Pain exquisite.

Heart in a million shards

so sharp, cutting the glass

of a mirror

reflecting the depth of emotion

flowing like a swollen river

raging, destroying everything

in its path. Leaving nothing

but barren, vacant emptiness.



  1. ‘And then, for the millionth time in the history of feeling, the heart surges, and absorbs the impact.’

    Pretty poem V, glad you’re getting it out on paper and not just bouncing around in your head.

  2. Well said, V!

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