A glass hold on a fractured problem,
tedious, this sad lament,
when broken sighs are sympathized
and heart-felt wishes sent,
yet hurt in hearts of pleading,
glimmer like gloaming light upon a pond,
as if they float above, no tether at all,
apart, their sad refrain in song.
Wishes so often fall short
no matter their golden truth in aspiration,
and blood-red feelings so warm of intent,
not joined in sharing,
a fleeting stumbled event,
that causes pain, an aching heart abstained
from where it should be.
How unfair is love,
like a delicate veil, so easily torn,
and forlorn a heart unrequited,
fallen to the shadows of life’s brightest light,
a plight of sad regress, of our aspiration,
yet love is our greatest feat also,
and what light it brings,
just for the giving.
This flesh is glass,
one incessant note my shattering,
and no matter the blood loss,
the heart circumvents the world,
every color felt, every word espoused
a testament to a fashioned possibility,
ours to procure in mind
and to accept in respite.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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