palms caked in dried clay

I had left finger prints on my own soul,

trying to resolve what someone else started

and those prints eventually became claw marks

from the piercing of the already decaying surface



"you tried but you shouldn't have", I said

"you know better than to touch wet clay;

you were unfinished but you were going to the flames,

earning that hard thick outer skin that everyone praises"



"but you just couldn't wait for the process of healing in that kiln

you dipped your toes into shallow ponds

and shook hands that once destroyed you

and look what you have done, far worse than where we started"




Poetry by aidan haskel The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 40 times
Written on 2024-02-18 at 21:02

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