Poetry

The other day I chose to crash and burn
And last night I chose to flip and turn
As one good sonnet did starve Lizzie's love dry
Mine, I killed with one wooden block's sigh
Wood once burdened by a decade's worth of paint and paper
Which I scraped clean and covered anew last winter
For a worthful new life in another one's life
To where it's now gone, in my turnaround last night; 
Yes, last night I walked away, didn't twist and look back
This dawn I search my heart's meanders, I wonder will I crack? 
And as I stare at the empty space beneath the bed
The empty spaces seem to grow inside my head
Some part of me feels compelled to worry
A bigger part recalls my crash and burn theory
Though the danger is real for something so hollow to cave in
Something tells me, 'empty' means less to lose and more to gain

~Jan 2011