Jigsaw

On By Perpetually Past DueIn Personal, Poetry, Writing

My dreams are puzzles;
a woeful masochist, watch as
I search endlessly for that final
piece to make the picture whole.

To force this mixture to make some
semblance of sense, I could
impart importance in the nuance;
metaphor and poetic device,
symbols to satiate my
muddled-up mind.

But, sometimes, a
cigar is just a
cigar.

by Erik Shinker

5 thoughts on “Jigsaw”

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