Yes, I Realize My Poems Are All Sad. And That None of Them Have Names. My Blog, My Rules.

~My first attempt at a sonnet. At 2am.

Help me to understand why

One can make promises they do not intend to keep?

And although you want to believe his sigh

He’ll push you ‘till you have to weep.

A broken vase, shattered on the ground

Glass and flowers mingling on the floor

Splashes of color and glitter abound

While reality slams us right into the door.

And, if the flowers are gathered up,

Will they still live and shine anew?

No, one may die while in the cup

Though drenched with heavy dew.

While he says “I’m sorry”

My face is turned away. 









Would you believe this stemmed from two boys telling me that they would call on the same night, at the same time... and neither of them did? Grr. I should just get txting and forget about the whole 'speaking' thing.