08/09/2019
of sun pops and tear drops
of tiny ashen gold pots
of scars and smiling sad screens
of a million and one musings
of heartbeats and heartaches
of faithful believings
of a few thousand mistakes
of wishful overthinkings
I maybe all stitches and tapeworks
But my spirit is whole…
In a galaxy of broken fixtures
I am a constellation
I am but one.
Yet versions of me exist in shards
of biased consciousness.
I am but whole.
Yet I appear only in fractions
of knitted perceptions.
In all scattered fractals
of fragmented memory
Will you hold my pieces whole?
Please don’t make me make you tell me…
Sparkles and Poetry 