Goblets of hurt

Eventually, brokenness becomes a muse,
waging war against your insides,
the norm.
All is not lost though,
even though you don’t heal,
there’s poetry, at least to maintain you.

You wine and dine and bathe in the brine of hurt,
in the bile of hurt.

W.E.

 

One thought on “Goblets of hurt”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s