Flailing in the Warmth

Like the finest sand to our footprints,
Love can betray us, implicitly,
Over the length of our tender advances.

I could speak to deafness,
Cry tears into an ocean of salt,
Die amongst countless headstones,
Hold a mirror to an echo
Over and again.

Yet nothing would advance–
As if the world had, unbeknowst to all,
Partitioned itself into movement
And space–

Until beauty frays
Revealing the weary soul unmistakeable.
This returns them:
We know how to mend
someone else’s broken heart.


Copyright 2013 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.

Is it really sadder to lose something
than to have nothing?


8 thoughts on “Flailing in the Warmth

  1. This is, I think a very sad poem – particularly in the implication of the last two lines, that we cannot mend our own broken heart.

    But, as someone else once said – I would rather have loved and lost than never loved at all!!!

    Terrific poem Michael


  2. This poem speaks to me. Heartbreaks of another person we can mend but not our own ones, still it is worth to feel the sand under our feet, even only for once. πŸ™‚


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