The Poison of a Broken Heart
The walls are grey
Alone sitting in her chair
A photo torn on the floor
Wilting flower in her hair.
Canvas cut and torn
Brushes lying on the floor
Palette paints dried and hard
She’s not an artist anymore.
Sad smile across her face
A tear slides down her cheek
Her heart says, “Cry.”
But she can’t speak.
Sitting straight and very still
As the darkness closed in.
As her eyes sadly closed
Her last thought was of him.
A silent crash from the bottle
As it fell from her hand
To the hard concrete floor
No one would understand.
Dayvid Graybill © 2012
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let's light it, after we gather the broken glass
and I will make you a gorgeous glass bead
New Visions & Glass Jewels of The Tigress Eye
Vickie
Cheers,
Dan
Ron