view poets sign up log in

Lexington Poetry Month

you can still drink from a chipped cup


I’m fragile like a porcelain saucer, all bruised edges and a good heart held together with aging glue.
The first bull in my china shop has always been and will always be you.
You’re the backroad to the bones of an abandoned house,
a narrow road birthing your wide shoulders to the home where we secretly gave each other mouth-to-mouth…
The tears I’ve cried for your comings and going, 
are a flooded river continuously overflowing.
You were my real first,
better than bourbon at quenching my thirst.
You’re the boy who broke my heart and will still testify,
that it’s the best heart anyone could come by.
But that boy who broke all the dishes in an almost empty room,
became a man who can always set me in full bloom.
I wish I could lay claim to Horse Creek’s prodigal son.

6 responses to “you can still drink from a chipped cup”

  1. Regan says:

    You have such beautiful and tragic details in this. (My personal favorite is the aging glue) I love this!

  2. Mamabear says:

    Beautiful…we all have that bull in the china shop and sometimes feel like we’re held with old glue…wonderfully written.

  3. K. Bruce Florence says:

    . . .backroad to the bones. . . this pulls a pain I had hoped was forgotten. Such strength in your lines. It is a keeper

  4. Sylvia Ahrens says:

    I agree with above comments. Wonderful images.
    “You’re the backroad to the bones of an abandoned house,” Wow!

  5. A. Taylor says:

    This is wonderful. I’m glad you posted, and I happened to read it.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.