Frank Yarbrough III

Forgotten Heartache

Fragments that are stagnant through the blackness of my mind. Like reminiscing remnants that daunt and taunt at my mind, my heart is sublime to my despise for I didn't take the time to minimize my demise as I circumcised what's left of my mind. Like lye when wet; glimpses dissolve away on the dime leaving no trace to be left behind. All I have is the brokenness of hopelessness stricken upon my chest for nor my heart or mind will never remember the rest. And I think that's best.