2 a.m

Your name flashed on the screen
Lightening up the dark around
Hopeful, against the dead of the night
I answered... Hello?

Now I stand facing the sea
Dirt and muck making the view
As I try to gather what we left behind

Much is lost
The pieces don't fit
So I stitch up my heart
And wait for the insoluble threads
To cease

Paper Cut

Straightening every fold
Making firm every loose end
Holding it by the edge...
Lashed against the white of skin

No stain on parchment,
No real wound to show,
But oh! How you hurt
Its the papers' blow.

Scars remain
Hidden between the lines
A tiny part of skin
Hanging loose

Oh! It's the papers' blow
To heal, new skin must grow