You break my heart, with your memories. Why, when we’re young

we’re so eager to smash the family portrait, only to weep

with longing when the years have taught us what is precious

and worthy of yearning for? They could have been

the worst you’d ever known, but when they are gone

you cry like a baby. They shunned, they judged, they hurt you

but sometime upon a night, bleeding in a wee hour of the morning, alone

with your festering wound, you cry.

© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019


About theminstrelscitadel

In search of courageous souls who aren't afraid to dig a little deeper and have a conversation about all manner of things. Rant, rave, debate, discuss... let's do it!
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.