My all is broken (Day 12)

I am not breathing
air is missing from my lungs
like that gorgeous pair of earrings
I lost long time ago.

I am not speaking
voices break up in my throat
my head feels as if it’s sinking
in an ocean with no boat

I no longer say tomorrow
For a while seems I have stopped
My thoughts drawn in their own sorrow
Wine already broke them all.

My all is broken
and all the pieces have a hole.

By Jocy Medina

Part of a Reader’s Digest Poem competition – where we write a poem every day. The theme of day 12 was damage.

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