Sandblasted
My heart sandblasted,
shavings left upon your hands,
and at your feet.
Will you put them back together,
or will you simply brush your hands clean,
and sweep it away,
like an annoying pile of dust?
I think I know the answer,
but I want to hear those ruby red lips say it,
yet perhaps the silence,
has already said it.
Maybe I'm an idiot,
but I plead with you,
please pick up the pieces.
Copyright © Ian Kilfoil | Year Posted 2011
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