Crumpled

Crumpled scraps of paper,
Abandoned on the floor,
Scrawled with ink-stained efforts:
Detritus turned décor.

Encircled by these failures,
I try to write it out:
Compose myself and theories
To rid myself of doubt.

But all articulation
Is folly I must own;
I’ll never know the reason
You left me all alone.

So, my heart is broken
And lies forevermore
Like that crumpled paper,
Abandoned on the floor.