Feelings
like wild flowers
Grow in the
junkyard of my soul
Boxed up leftovers
of stinking fears
Puffy-eyed,
salty-mouthed sorrows
Ghostly
silhouettes of past apologies
Busted tires of
anxiety attacks
Body bags of
screwed up intentions
Rotten flesh of
sweet innocence
Corroded corpses
of broken promises
Powerless engines
choked up and dead
Mounds of
shattered meanings
Windshield
fragments of wrecked commitments
Empty bottles of
faceless nights
Rusty piles of
never-kissed mornings
and dogs, dogs
barking angrily at me.
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