Saturday, September 10, 2011

Cracked

I often compare my heart
(and soul)
to broken flower pots
I often feel
terraccotta cracked cold open
baked and moist earth
within me
clay, dirt, and the life that springs
from flowers in spring

Many times and ways
I've attempted to repair the damage
but the cracks still remain
to be seen
and questioned
and criticized

The flowers still grow
even when pulled
and given to others
often leaving me hollow
while waiting for life to resume

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