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If my heart be now broken,
It’s in shattered shards, which fall to the carpet at my feet.
So sad, so deep is our defeat.
Crushed is that goblet of passion.
This sweet wine of love.
Splashed, dashed, wasted.
Like the glass which I threw against the wall last night.
A fight, no, a defeat where the aggressor cries.
Your lack of truth
Your lack of love
Your lack of insight
Each crack, a tremor reducing our foundation to rubble.
Its in the rising dust of disambiguation, in the misunderstood insight.
In the genesis of redefining what really happened.
I feel pain.
Deep true pain.
Hacking like a blunt axe into a green living branch.
The brutality, my sensitivity, the organic death of what gave such joy.
Gasping, choking for breath.
My blooded hands cradle that shattered thing.
Moulding it, forming it, recreating an organ of wonder, of joy, of pulse, of free red blood.
I will regain firm ground.
From which again I’ll reach out anew.
Reach out and find
Liam August 2018