Shattered Glass

I just looked in the mirror

And I saw it…

And I wondered, how many times have people acknowledged

and speculated on where it had come from?

I wondered who hadn’t noticed it at all…

Is it more noticeable when I smile?

When I pout?

When I’m talking?

It’s my constant reminder

Of how far things had gotten

Of how that still wasn’t enough to leave

Was it a battle scar?

Was it the visible wound that wasn’t enough being held in,

it had to show itself

for all to see

Permanently

 

It’s a reminder

to never battle that way again

that screaming words always shatter glass houses

And there we were,

always picking up the pieces…

How to connect again?

How to make this work?

Each time trying

But not succeeding

in believing

that trying meant only once

And we shattered once again

 

That glass broke my lip

And scarred my face…

And the pieces remained on the floor

Because neither wanted to get cut

by the sharp ridges

                                    of angst towards each other

and bleed out half-willed apologies

© Jecenia Isis Figueroa
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