[23] MIRRORS
"Have you ever tried looking in the mirror and truly, truly see yourself?" he said. "You're so much more than what you think you are. Baby, you can take that mirror apart and shatter the pieces and you'll realize, I love you. Whole or pieces. I love you. And I don't care. I don't fucking care if my hands will be covered with cuts and wounds but I will pick up every shattered piece of you and hold them tightly. Never trying to put them back together because I don't need to. You're not broken, you're just not the same from before but I love you. Always. Forever."
YOU ARE READING
Witherland
PoetryAgain: precarious. When blood remains, I see the world tripping over the edge of the sword, red and forgotten. They drop, drop, drop-- balance. And we fall endlessly. [a poetry series by alice © 2017]
