Formed

The beauty of love is that it can be formed and reformed. The pain of love is that it is as fragile as clay. This is a poem I wrote about my feelings about love. Enjoy!

We all start as a ready glob

Waiting to be formed

Some are shaped by experiences

Some shaped by the people

We let in by our need

We are hardened by the fire

Of expectations and disappointment

We require special handling

For we all break

Some, more easily than others

Some, when dropped

Crumble to pieces

Will it be too late to be reshaped

Or are we now the sand

Of time and waiting

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s