I’m wandering through machinations, trepidations, my stipulation
Casting out hands like broken wings, taking flight through this suffering
She’s a little bird again, yes she,
Fragile heart wrought with ingenuity
My skin reacts to these attacks as each crack fissures
an open wound.
Oozing out these wanderings, I'm wondering:
Don't I mean anything to you?
Broken, shifted, the pain is mended,
Tied up with strings and sealing wax, it should have ended,
And I'm struggling to write a tune.
Missing, missing, that sweet ache is missing
Her bleeding heart leaves a trail through this room
They sing and I cry,
About the Author
Kayla Hanson is a Creative Writing Major with an emphasis in procrastination. She lives in Orange County and was recently accepted into CSULB. Kayla is looking forward to this next page in her life, and she is so glad she could be a part of The Ear before she left IVC. Connect on her poetry blog or Instagram.
I dance and you sigh,
"I can't see you anytime soon, my love, no I can't see you anytime soon."
Gone, now, all gone.
I move along,
And left on the floor behind me,
All tissue and muscle, steadily beating useless part,