DocAndersen
One
singular
an open
lost
it is sometimes less than more.
A sliver
a shard.
One tiny frame
one image
splintered
shattered
a single shard.
Sharp
poking beyond the surface
wearing away
tearing
the blood welling around it
but
none, no blood escaping
the shard
wedged
unmovable
unrecallable
just a single
shard
too small to grasp
too painful to ignore
but no more.
Great poem.
Nice and interesting!
thanks
Vow…never expected it that way by looking at the title and the featured image!!!
Thanks, the image was selected because I loved it. The poem is from three or so years ago.