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Writer's picturejane doe

darling

darling, won't you come over?

can we talk through the mess we made?

the windows shattered in the storm and i'm cutting myself on the shards of us.


i'll pick you up,

we can put the blame on me

just come over so i don't find a new reason to bleed.

much like the photos on the walls,

i'm hung up on you.


the mess we made is daunting at best,

but with a little work

this mess could be home again,

i'll clean up the glass and mop up the broken promises before it seeps through the cracks and leaves a memory so pungent we'd never recover from the smell.


a reminder that as it sits, the time spent was wasted.

walls torn down,

i didn't stand a chance against the storm sent my way,

i learned i can turn broken into beautiful but not without cutting my fingers on the glass.

in our case, i near bled out trying to tidy the wreckage.


glass on the floor

water in the carpet

cracks in the foundation


darling won't you come over and help clean up this mess i made?

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