Pax
she sits small and tensed,
with thoughts stretching
her face a million
unflattering directions before she
settles on a smile
though her body remains
tight, she allows
the thoughts stretching
her face in the
painful manner to
extract
release
shatter
her heart into itsy-bitsy pieces
and each smote heart
piece flies to someone
new, someone who needs
it more or more likely—
she can’t
she doesn’t want
to say
one sparkly heart
piece shines within
her though—one only her own
but these that have
been sent to others
attach
cling
pull
her closer, lulling her into a
false sense of loving security
if she is completely
honest with herself,
she recognizes the
broken heart
disguised as empathy
she recognizes an inversely
parasitic relationship
if the world’s hearts’
break, shattering and being
sent to those they love, then from
ruin comes transformation—
new conglomerate hearts
but if not
if the world keeps
their hearts attached
and in peace and not
in pieces
she is just the girl
with the sharp, sparkling, shattered
and quickly dulling
heart piece
Beautiful and haunting, as well as thought-provoking. I adore all your poetry!
ReplyDeleteIt is interesting how one can find peace (pax) in a world swirling with emotion and broken (and mended) hearts.
ReplyDeleteThanks Shayli:) And James, I mainly chose the title for the play-on words with saying "piece" so much. You caught onto the other reason though, because that is very true :)
ReplyDeleteWell, that pun went right over my head. :P
ReplyDelete