“It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you." E.M. Foster ― A Room with A View
“In a world full of temporary things you are a perpetual feeling.” ― Sanober Khan
“I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled [poets] to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.” ― Socrates
©
Pieces of Her Heart
She sat outside quietly sewing pieces of her heart together,
Shedding old pains yet weeping for what used to be.
Once the proprietress of a late-model, gas-guzzler,
Her reveries wove summer rains and red wine kisses,
Sun-baked tans on aging skin, and hopeless-wish reflections.
Another stitch and two long sighs burrowed away from cold-blooded
lies
On tear-stained parchment, aged by time, and coiled around
her feet.
Raindrops that struck a tiny tin cup sounded like submarine
pings.
Following shadows to tender places along magnolia-lined
lanes,
It was more difficult for her to
swim in oceans of parking lots
And wish-you-were-here loveless postcards mailed from
Obligation than it was for her to let absent lovers rest in
peace.
Fingers braided with thread sewed in mysteries for future
lovers to
Solve before departing whole while reducing her to scattered
pieces;
Dragonflies, crooning frogs, and panther-dark clouds echoed
her thoughts as
She sat outside quietly sewing pieces of her heart together.
All Rights Reserved
(painting: Young Woman Sewing in
The Garden, Mary Cassatt, 1886, oil on canvas)
