shoebox | a poetry collection

- what it's like to break

do you know what it's like
to break?

to feel your heart shatter
into millions of pieces,
just after you finished
gluing it back together?

and then you're standing there,
appearing polished and
pretty, a smile stuck
carefully onto your lips,

while inside you're trapped
in a battle with
your mind and your heart and
your everything
except, not really
because they were
your everything,
and they're
but a memory.

you're wiping the tears
away, shoving back the sobs
and carefully focusing
anywhere but there
when they walk in, stumbling
slightly and laughing with
anyone
who isn't you.

and you realize then that
such a magical, mythical thing
you once called hope
is nothing less than a flame
atop a thin, stout candle,
and it is flicker, flicker,
flickering out.

nothing about breaking
seems enticing.
no possibilities of
good outcomes cause you
to allow yourself to shatter
before your very eyes.

except that perhaps you wish
to see a broken person
piece themself back together,
sticky tape and glue
never really being enough.

perhaps you think, even
dare hope once more
that a person could step
out of their hiding to
wave a wand and
poof! you become whole
once more.

repair takes time, time
that you don't wish
to allow. so before
you even realize it,

you've tossed aside
the glue, cut one final
piece of tape,
and lit the flame of hope,

perched on the tightrope and
prepared to fall, believing
unwisely that this time
the feeling of your heart
shattering will hurt
just a little bit
less.

- a.

2 / 2021