I’m drawn to the broken poems
written in imperfect rhyme
painting shadows on a page
where emotions intertwine
Where lines may halt without good reason
breaking formulaic rule;
scripted for some revelation–
a purpose-driven, cryptic sign?
Or a puzzle with some hidden meaning,
meant for someone else to find.
Hiding truth protects the bearer,
in life riddled with old scars
candor hurts as well as heals
and yet, defines just who we are.
With no proof that you are worthy
I build a wall till trust is gained
not meant to hide my broken parts
but to protect all that remains.
Our stories lie outside the lines
and sometimes in the broken poems:
where two divergent souls align
in friendship from a different time.
Some might say that “It’s a sign”
I just call it ‘undefined’
© Ginny Brannan 2026
