Spun Sorrow

For love, there must be loss

And so these days come,
To her in emptyness...
But still, her heart speaks
through ink and bending wrist

It was not your eyes
Which harbored tears
It was your filling cup
Overdrawn

Let a heart speak upon deaf ears
And a silent life will listen intensely


Spun Sorrow
Is Cotton Candy for the Martyr