Our Mess

Look at the mess you made.
The tears you caused.
The hearts you broke.
Nothing is the same.
Everything has long since changed.
The weight of sorrow that will forever hang.
If only I could’ve fixed you.
The tears would dry.
No hearts that need mending.
That only works in a dream.
For this is reality.
The harsh reality that brings much sadness.
So we try to clean up the mess you made.
Leaving a trail of tears as we go along.
Forced to glue back the pieces of our own hearts.
Over time the mess will become smaller.
The tears will become less.
The heart will start to heal.
Still there will always be a part of us that will be broken.
Time doesn’t heal all wounds.
It only makes it easier.
This all started with the mess you made.
The mess of this thing called life.
No one gets it right.
None of us emerge unscathed.
Although this is a mess you made.
I wouldn’t change being apart of it.
For a beautiful mess it was.


- Asia Aneka Anderson, Our Mess 2016©

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