Crumpled
I always seem to find chunks of writing on random pieces of paper in my pockets - napkins, the backs of receipts, torn flaps of envelopes and the like. This morning I threw on a hooded sweatshirt as I flew out the door and this was in the pocket. . .
Bruised
If you believed in me,
you never would have screamed
the silence that you did
never would have beat me
with the loneliness left
in your absence.
The bruise on my heart
may never heal.
On the flipside was. . .
Wishing
Toes in the wet sand
and a hand full of stars –
I think of you every day,
praying God will bless
the road you’re on,
and hoping one day
it will lead you
home to me.
Posted by Amanda at April 23, 2003 12:14 PM
