Blue Bisque and Silk Flowers

A shattered vase upon the floor,
picking up pieces of blue bisque,
silk flowers rest there with it, never dying,
unharmed amongst broken shards,
unafraid of pain or the risk.
An empty bed,
dreaming compassion rests in the voided place,
a tear,
wiping in a smile,
sad,
visions of a happier face.
Angry words,
soft comforting ones, a hand there to hold.
Wanting warmth,
in the midst of…
cold.
Weak, becomes strong,
love becoming bitter,
because the love
is all…
wrong.
It takes two hearts to make it,
it takes two to break it,
when love is only granted by one,
it all comes undone.
A risk in love,
to give your all,
picking up pieces of blue bisque,
when the vase shatters in the fall.
Silk flowers,
never wilt, won't die,
an irony, and maybe blue bisque tears,
but a silk flower love am I.