This piece is a good eighteen months in the making and perhaps, it is only the beginning of what will be a slew of poems meant as cathartic. Nevertheless, much like the namesake of this poem, I’m a fan of fragmented, disjointed, somewhat ambiguous and vague minimalistic poetry. Hence, then, the style of this poem isn’t merely just a thematic choice befitting the content itself, but a style choice in itself.
Fragmented
I gave myself to you fully
with the warning of
fragility.
And piece by piece,
you scattered me
until I was a nothingness.
You left me alone
with these jaded edges
of regret, longing.
Your words were
like hollow-point
bullets and
you had taken
my guard.
I ached for
one last kiss,
one last touch,
and
one last look
that meant you
ached too.
Reblogged this on Wisp Of Smoke and commented:
My nephew with a rather potent piece of poetry.
Much appreciated, thanks.