This is a work in progress.
In here are bits and pieces of my heart
for you to read
like tea leaves in a cup,
or a broken crystal ball.
So slip into my well-worn feet,
feel the burn of blistered soles,
the grind and pop of ageing bones
as they leap at heaven,
trembling fingertips not quite mine
grasping at what was promised
and somehow left behind.
Here's some tinkering for the order I intend to place these poems in a chapbook:
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