Irreparable

Tranquility. Follows the storm. You're not moaning. Or mourning. Anymore. Just tranquil. Numb perhaps. The worst has happened. And the devastation lies in front of you. Or within you. A battered heart, tattered self-worth and shattered faith. Destroyed beyond recognition. Oh, at least the storm is over.

Spoke too soon. Here it comes. Back again. But then, what’s left for it to take?

Acute Damage

I thought dogs are locked in when guests come home.

And beggars are blocked out when they ask for more.

I still do hope that I’m not the dog.

I do know for sure, though, that I was the beggar.