Broken Window

Outside looking in

is not what I thought

it would be –

a pale reflection

ghosts still alive

silently haunting me.

Shards of glass

betray my secrets,

pieces of my soul;

words unuttered

abused and misplaced

forgetting what they hold.

I see what passes

for time before me,

on whisper-thin thread,

and through the window

looking out, see

the spirit that’s been bled.