Worn Out

If I could ever trace

The worn out contour

Of life and love, I will

Be able to say that there

Is never a new beginning

But another gear to this

Giant clock

If I could ever trace the

Worn out contour of a

Woman's shape, I will be

Able to decipher what every

Poem tried to explain

If I could ever trace the

Worn out contour of my

Own shape, I will be able

To dismantle a pack of

Spiders, thunder, rain, wind,

And ink only

If I could ever trace the

Worn out contour of my

Humble lines, there will be

Ink, blood, and love only

But if I could ever trace

The worn out contour of

Our lives themselves, I will

Be able to see that maybe,

Just maybe, they are not

Worn out at all.

DA 2014