Broken Things | Poetry

Broken Things

I’m in love with a man
Who loves broken things
Dead engines, flat tires,
And old rusty springs
Who’s to say
What the attraction is
Perhaps I’m merely
A hobby of his
An empty soul
With a broken heart
A possession with which
He’ll never part
…His angel, her demons,
My saving grace
Lay me to rest
In this hallowed place
Though, not easily daunted,
Skilled hands he’ll still bring
For, alas, all I am
Is another broken thing

dEfyant Message Sent via BlackBerry

2 thoughts on “Broken Things | Poetry

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