A poem written by Aislinn whom I met on Twitter through the Sunday #btsm chat. Aislinn was kind enough to allow me to share  these words:

Staring blankly at a shattered mirror
Where void of emptiness appears surreal
Unbearable silence wandering near
The ghost of whom it will never seem real.
Curiosity in the kindest way
Where words wasted to be too serious
Where the words wasted are taken astray
Creeping melancholy mysterious.
Where plows dig up the soil of growing land
And leave behind the fields filled with forsake
One under the false pretense of command
A barely breathing forgotten mistake.

Keeping close pieces of which I once was
But keeping pieces close only because