3.4.09

[pathopoetry] fallen cup

I pick up the pieces
put down a dustpan
sweep up the shards

keep an eye out for the tiny remnants
sharp little crumbs lie a mile away
don't put a foot down without a slipper in it
I have been cut by invisible slivers
before

it's a fallen cup but there's so much that's broken
only spilt milk but I'm crying all the same


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