Is this the direction
my face
has taken?
The flight of
a murder of crows
webbing from the corners
of my eyes
or is this looking glass
crass reflection
jagged edges
leading my mind
back there
into the shadows
the webbed corners
and dimmed faded
wall papers
plastered over
screaming ghosts
of past
that didn’t last
but ran wailing
at the first sound
of booted feet
echoing up
from long buried depths
steps leaving
purple bruised prints
on my ground
and seasonings of bitterness
over my foundation
of crumbling confidence
in a smooth mirrored


Cracked — 8 Comments

  1. Those ghosts from our pasts bring out a lot of emotion from time to time, the shadows creep through the thin curtain of times past to reveal all the hurt and pain we left behind them. Your work is always daunting my friend and fellow poet. I’ve tweeted and googled+ to share it with those who feel what we pen. You are a true artist and poet.

Leave a Reply