In My Hands, A Broken Compass

Poetry Sunday

Poetry Sunday

Photo by Yohann LIBOT on Unsplash

Bedsheets tangle on a restless night
Outside the moon is looking down
Flowered vines creep up the sides
Of my small house in this small town

Flowered vines creep up my heart
Growing thorns that prick and bleed
Inside, I keep the one I love
But outside, I cannot speak my need

Letting go means empty hands
But a heart s…