broken-mirror

As I stood amid the broken, jagged shards of life as we had known it

Individually, as matched sets, collectively,

As I watched in horror the blood drip from my shattered heart

when the fragments splintered into indiscernible shapes,

As I cut my fingers to the bone demanding

with frantic, frenzied determination,

that they, the pieces, allow me to re-arrange them

into something acceptable, to me,

something at least resembling what had been between us

I was struck anew, by that weightiest of acceptances,

that you have come to visit again, loss

but that you will as ever,

leave something new

in your

wake.

And I may hold it tighter,

with more ardor,

than I did its previous to your intrusion,

incarnation.

And it will be,

it is now,

Precious.

Marcela: licking wounds, picking up pieces, making plans, waiting for bitch-slappy’s next, making plans anyway.

April 25, 2020