your shattered bits fixed clean. Not because your heart
can’t find an empty room to start over. Not because you're
not strong enough to lift the bulk of even a small disappointment.
Not because of a hurdle your body can't cross and not because escape
is easy and not because you don't carry the words to turn it into art. You do.
But sometimes, it's too hard to make it pretty, lavish a moonscape
with anything else but more rocks. So pile it on. Make a new
dress with all your unmended patchwork. Let the threads ruffle and sway.
Tear a path from the broken woods and weave your weary self my way.
it's too hard to make it pretty
Not because you don't want your loose ends tied, or