Monday, August 30, 2010

Shatter.

Bittersweet memories of broken glass.

the shards crushed under our hurried feet.

Whispering cracks that shed the wind between them.

and the sadness of a lost comfort sphere, caked in red.

Small, hard, and cutting.

1 comment:

  1. The Chef with the butterflyAugust 31, 2010 at 6:23 PM

    and yet sometimes the shattered glass sparkles brilliantly in the sun when you look at it from different angles....

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