Sweet Desolation 

Photo Credit: groby at deviantart.com

They always come back eventually.

They wander in and wait
for their ghosts
to destroy me,
or they sit there
wrapping themselves
in glass blankets
made from the wreckage
I’ve created.

Either way,
we are both shattered,
broken beyond fixing,
yet we pick up our pieces,
what’s left of our

and come back again,
wait in line
to do it all over,
to reach up
and taste
that sweet desolation
one more time.





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