Poetry / Broken (Analysis)

Broken
A poem

Dusk slays the day and bleeds shadows over timeless faces breathing dismay
Stone paths static in cracks where the blood pours in – an intricate bath; to drink succeeds in sin.
Harrowed hearts are broken in parts where luster absorbs the pain of a thousand flouted swords. And to what gain -
Escape is brother to what shade upon which you’ll disobey, and off the dew of three hundred dawning’s, glints whisper truth alas towards the hinge where breaks the gate
Eyes slit and shrink your silhouette; temper reamed over thoughts of hatred carried about your flesh, but in a blink they miss what could have parried the flu of regret, what could have been a kiss.

But you run. Shadows bequeath. Broken. Free.

Micheal J Wallace

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