Poetry | Chaos in Abstract

It’s that time of the year again

when the world is too bright—

for my dark and heavy heart

It’s that time of the year again

when the world is too alive—

for my dead and empty inside

 

It’s that time of the year again

when we used to be complete—

until we shattered and broke

 

It’s that time of the year again

when I long for your face—

but your presence makes me ache

 

It’s that time of the year again

when I don’t want us to part—

but we’re a delicate abstract art

 

It’s that time

  of the year again

    where your home

      is a different place

        from ours.

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