The Cracked Fairytale


The windows fog

Music down low

The cloud is dark

Hanging like stone


Holding memories

In its smoky grasp

The things she never did

Falling through the cracks


Oh, to miss someone

Like a scarred up wound

The bitter resting heavy

On the sweetest full moon


The never-ending edge

Of a full-stop wedge

The sinking gutted feeling

Of the endless ledge


To fall to the black

Where her choices have died

Or rise to the light

Where hope once lied


The dead may speak

The living may choke

The rest of us crumple

Into rusty old coats

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