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  • Category: Community Poetry
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Borders

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It’s all here.

every last word.

for some twisted reason it will not speak.

Nothing will come. Something is missing

 maybe even wrong but

nothing is unleashed until that last

 clue has been found.

Then it has been said that it will all come together.

We will come into the light.

It’s like staring at a sporadic forest puzzle

your mom bought from Kmart just to keep you busy,

and you’ve spent

hours trying to figure out.

Everything so vibrant

yet somehow empty.

The trees can only go so far until the thin cardboard borders

push them back in again.

Sometimes the last piece

is lost in the shuffle;

 the constant habitual of our ambiguity.

while the last piece is still lost,

we have some choices to make:

Wait for it to slowly make its way back to us,

or start over.

Break some things apart and mash them together

so the borders can finally seem to fit around something needed

to be constructed.

Comments (1)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Very well done. Deep meanings with flowing verse. Keep exploring your talent.

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