Break Up. (Poem)

Breaking, upwards of the truth-

broken

down

to the grit,

the pieces beneath.

The essence of sadness, combined with

shock and spittle through angst and hatred.

Break, in the utmost foundation;

the line in the undusted,

the crack in the gateway.

Broken

by the bind,

seeping, the cold truth

soaks in

and you wake up,

wet and alone

unknown and blissful,

gone from the grip.

Restart.

Replaced,

Ruined by words.

‘I

think

we

should’,

Break   –   up.

The East Winds [a poem by Melissa Holden]

Never trust the East Wind

she’s there to carry the secrets

that you and I,

the whole world, in fact, possess.

She will take you to hidden coves

and caves filled with gold

but she’ll take away

the love you did once hold.

Her transparent grip

will pull you across the seas

on pirate ships and warm islands too

but your beating heart she will always freeze

because the East Wind is bad for you.