Blades of broken glass

I watched him as he fell before her,

each gust of wind ripping him apart,

brokenness becoming his fall.

There is blades of broken glass on the ground,

picking up the pieces he holds his love,

bloody hands without being cut.

She cries to him as she walks away,

on his knees he tries to understand,

why things are to be this way.

From a distance I feel his tears in me,

the crushing painful feeling of feeling at all,

he notices how good she looks walking away.

No heart left together in the glass he holds,

undone his puzzle pieces conundrum life,

loveless and alone weeping for reasons.

No smile left to be forced in his soul,

shards of a heart already cold in its death,

empty he falls even lower where he sits.

Cold heart in the very hands of hope he screams,

loneliness smiles on the weary,

love will find her way back to him.











Johnny Newell