An odd sort of Poetry · vice and all her ailments

red puzzles


the puzzle was finished years ago

hung up without much thought:

the exposure cracked the glue,

and water stained the pieces.

dust stole all the color,

and one day,

years later,

you found the puzzle

in pieces on the ground.


when you tried to put it back together,

you couldn’t.

some pieces were just bent

others ripped to shreds

some were altogether missing.

but you still see them in your head

the color was washed out all that’s left

is red.


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