on the wall it once hanged ­– a vibrant puzzle full of colour.

every piece a perfect match; not a single one out of place.

but here it lay – a solitary piece on an empty frame.

scattered from its kin, he craved for a place to belong,

without exception, every endeavour was agonizing,

it can’t be helped; such was his fate.

now stubbed, discoloured and bent out of shape,

even the pieces which once linked now no longer clicked.

a broken puzzle piece that just won’t fit.

ghost of a muse

it’s a pity,
this weather with this city.
what a mismatch,
her beauty’s got a catch.

the sun is setting,
was it ever rising?
you were way up there,
but you were never here.
where it mattered the most;
you’re just a ghost.

if this were a wedding,
that would be no ring.
if you are my muse,
then why do you refuse…?