Black

The pieces fall

like crumbs to asphalt

where zealous vultures vie to get their share.

There was no whole person there-

just a vacant carcass

to house an empty soul

 

Gather up the fragments

to be placed in a bin with all other trash.

No thread to mend the net that never caught her.

One string unravels the rest;

She is torn at best.

 

Sort through the rubble to find a better match

Garbage could not be called better

Too many puzzles, all muddled

No patch to hide the holes

No design to aid the putting back together

Just one solid color of black.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Mr. Deft Diction]

Putting ourselves back together is quite a difficult mission. It always gets darker before the light.

Nice write!