Sometimes
you pour your heart out
in to a few empty tea cups
to see how it settles and warms.
Sometimes you chew
on the remnants of days
to taste their dull bitterness again.
Clouds pass
and rain falls in the garden.
The wind whispers her name
and you fall asleep
knowing that it isn’t for pity
but for a brighter sense of the world
that you strive everyday.
Spreading out a map of the world,
you colour in all the places
you’ve been in your dreams.
Paris is deep blue
and all the southern states
are gently shaded in pastels.
The coasts have been highlighted
so that they’re slightly heavier.
This poem that you have been writing
is filled with too much of her.
It imprints the ominous outline of her smile
and pulls the strands out of you one by one.
Forget history.
Forget sentiment.
Perhaps some things were meant
for you alone. To hold and harden
like the brightest diamond.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
Sometimes you chew
on the remnants of days
to taste their dull bitterness again.
When I read a really good poem, there’s usually a point at which I get reeled in — a hook, if you will. It’s often a resonant concept or arrangement of words (or lines). It makes you want to keep reading the rest until you feel like you understand the whole poem almost as if it were your own thought process. The three lines above are that point in this poem for me. Nicely done.