Missed Call

Not a whole lot to say today, friends. I hope you have a wonderful mother’s day! Please enjoy the poem !

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Missed Call

That’s what gives you hope?

The stinging, ringing feeling

of some unknown isotope.

Always leaves you reeling.

A good man, you say.

Do you know what that means?

Those words…

How deep they cut.

I hope one day

for a cushion

instead of a knife.

I hope to lie in peace,

perhaps,

rather than on a bed of nails.

Always poised

as if to be struck.

Now what kind of life

does this one make?

What kind of life

does this one take?

Broken and unbroken…

I don’t know how the pieces go together.