Untitled II

Pain will lay
in my lap, boring holes into
a withered soul

its mouth wrinkled
with knowing smiles, one eyebrow
twitching toward destiny.

Pure rage burns behind
ocean eyes, turbulent sea,
sand-caked feet walking away.

Something held bruise-tight,
millions of miles eroded
and still nothing suffices.

If you look close, bobbing in the surf
are tiny, fractured pieces,
if glued together, would make the perfect picture

of a blood-pumping,
howling moon heart—

Amused by heartbreak.