Poor Fools

Poor fools we are-
We cannot seem to touch.
Although we are so near
A heart beat apart,
But we are walled off
Each in our cell of misery.
We built this wall high.
Cemented it with our tears.
Set each brick with pain.
Disected our love.
Sliced it into a thousand pieces;
Cut each other with cruel words.
Until it withered - died.
And we are left with dust.

P H Brookes Copyright 2011

poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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