Broken lines,
couched in jagged curves;
a jetstream of white light,
a splash of grey shadow ~
all reflections of
my monotonous heart.
She thirsts for you,
feels parched in your absence.
Missing the fluid velvet
of your touch,
of your taste ~
reflecting,
upon the beauty of broken things.
Photo Credit: DeviantArt
Poetry: Roxanne Galpin
This means challenging my self to compassionate, encouraging, genuine and hostile-free exchanges. It also means contemplating my reaction to the thoughts, feelings and expressions of others, prior to acting upon them. 
3 comments:
I love this poem and photo together - they describe me today.
Ellen
This is beautiful :)
There certainly is a beauty in the broken things, there is even magic in them, if you can train your perception to see beyond the common conceptions of aesthetic for this times.
The beauty lies in the impossibility of putting it back as it once was, in the melancholy off the missing shaped mass.
Post a Comment