Holes
in the ceiling. Holes in my clothes.
Holes in my armor,
the lies of the charmer.
Holes in the profiles hoping for love,
only to shove
me away.
Another day.
Another chance
to dance
around those massive craters
that are greater
with each passing year.
I fear
soon there will be
nothing left for me
but the holes.
Dogpaddling Through Life 
Love you – this speaks to my soul
>
Thanks Roy. Love you too, hon.
Awww. So beautiful, but there’s sadness. Made me think of one of my undergrad teachers in the art department who would remind us of the beauty of the negative spaces. They are just as necessary, just as valuable, and beautiful. Holes don’t have to be a bad thing.
Long as you don’t waste all your time peering into them.
age seems to be bringing more and more holes… not at all what I expected… poignant poem!
Thanks. I got a million of ’em… holes, that is.
😊♥️
we feel like you … it’s hard to carry on when your amor looks like a cheese… but we decided to be a knight from switzerland, so it fits (sort of)
Better than a Swiss army knife I suppose? lol