Love cracked and chipped offLike pieces of a broken potThe one we made for art class when we were sixWe stuck little things to it, fabric painted all overLike tiny pieces of glassLove fell and scattered across the floorAnd like withered paint, it came off in my handsIn little sheetsCorroded by the air we breatheIt …
I write to hold on to some of it : lingering thoughts, fleeting ideas, fading memories and love.
