Shattered mirrors of what we were,
every shard holds a laugh, a tear.
Empty chairs echo your name,
ghosts of fingers linger, untame.
Love’s last ember cools to ash,
heartbeats stumble, feelings crash.
But dawn creeps in, soft and slow,
mending cracks where wildflowers grow.
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Author:
ROSHI (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 12th, 2026 21:51
- Comment from author about the poem: I haven’t written in awhile, at least not published. I think I am back now
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Offline)
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