We all need a little inspiration.

Once long ago,
I controlled my own innocence.
Spread my love
around wide like a bird's wings.
Pulled fake petals
to fashion them into my schemes.

It was stolen,
or I lost it.

Then,
I guarded
my trust
as sacred.
Didn't let
them catch
it naked.

Just appear taken.

Any more,
love is stashed
in failed pieces,
living, but abashed
and restless.

My heart's rationed.
And I am breathless.
This house is vacant.
no pitter-patter hearts,
all the tenderness faded.

Love's dying in shards.
I guess my heart's wasted.