Light glinting off splinters that had once been whole and beautiful.
The fragile whole was not Real.
A reflection of what was not, but that which was hoped into existence so hard it could no longer withstand the pressure
And it exploded.
Burst apart in a blast so big and quiet that no one felt the slicing slivers, only the shock.
Buried deeper with each breath, each step.
Wounded and bleeding, there is nothing left to do but give up. Give in.
Pain no longer sustains.
Dig into the old wounds, now bled fresh.
Laid out, laid bare, hot tears wash and heal.
And gold rebuilds the pieces into a Real more beautiful.
The breathtaking language in this poem is like a decadent dessert for the mind. Amazing job!
Wow! Thank you
Great use of extended metaphor in this piece, and it resonated with me on a personal level.
Thank you ❤️