What do I have, not lost in this shuffle of days,

love, a once blooming flower between pages

dried up like memories I still retain.

What did I find in the pleasure and the pain

of my heartbeats, an illusionary ending if alone

I watch this sunset and my eyes glaze

with a perpetual want that won’t satisfy

these dreams lingering on my pillow.

Oh, but death so alluring as a final feat

to entertain the possibilities of beyond

like a sweet drug that keeps me high

craving the beginning of an end

while I contemplate this life,

to understand my transformation flows

within the ashes of defeat-


June 21, 2019

“There is no perfection, only beautiful versions of brokenness.”

― Shannon L. Alder

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