Offerings

Photo by Rod Long on Unsplash

A constitution of broken flowers holds my heart

With present and past and wrinkled scars

I have gone out of the way to ease the pain

I have washed my tears in the rain

A measure of salt covers my soul

With a picture, a letter, and truckloads of spite

I have sung sad litanies

And offered platitudes to restless ghosts

In hopes I can begin anew and forget that I love you