Stages

I am "made" up of ashes and nightmares,

Instead counting sheep’s,

I count beautiful days spent with her.

It sometimes,

I realize "love" is not something that frees your soul,

that you should find under your fingertips.

that wraps around your heart.

She is a gentle apology,

with a wild heart.

She had been with me or it was just a dream ?

But I see her fragments fallen under my heart.

Overshadowing, My numb heart she have to touch so,

it would start beating again as in her vicinity.

Her missing parts,

I would lit up again until the darkness is gone.

So much to live,

so rare, eyes shining brighter than the stars someday cared for me.

Yet a bandage of paper and a drop of ink could aid me now.

"Broken"

-©TheCursedPOET