There is no door on my home
There is no “where” I roam
That permission is granted
For you to again request access.
The lights in my windows
The warmth of my hearth
Are obscured from your blows
You, with chosen corrupted self-worth
My over shoulder refrain to your
Strut of smoking guiltless shame
“Never again. Not ever again.
Once a thief, always a liar
You raped what you so
Deserved in your own destructive fire.”
I love its depth. 🙂
Thank you. Broken hearts mended with golden words like Japanese pottery.
you are fond of Japanese poetry?
I wish I were moreso. My reference is to the technique of repairing broken pottery with gold because the breaks make it more valuable. Hearts are like the repaired pots
wow! i can feel your depth. love it! that’s true. really true 🙂