(no title)

debris strewn across the ground
searching – for your own pieces – only to find
pieces of others
you thought you left behind

after awhile, they merge into a dusty pile
of broken promises and jagged words
some mine, but some yours as well
some silent, but some heard.

these roughened palms can only do so much -
retrieving the pieces of my own.
but yours remain
a testimony to my guilt and shame

these roughened palms can only pray
fingers interlocking in close embrace
for a day
where life and love will sprout again

till then..