At My Door

I keep working
my way through
how many broken dreams,
shattered?
And I realize,
at this point,
do I care?
How many
shards of glass
have pierced
my soles,
for the written word
is all that matters,
and you?
Some kind
of meaning,
in the middle,
the mediator,
of my soul,
and I wonder, if you even
realize?
Taking my words
and re-representing them
in some
kind of form,
some kind of fashion,
but I need more,
do you hear me?
From you,
direct communication
would mean, a knock
at my door.

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2 thoughts on “At My Door

  1. Wow! This is amazing, so creative and powerful. Just found your blog and I can’t wait to follow your writing.

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