Poetry

Porcelain Strength

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Something that’s happening a hundred
miles away still tastes as close as
breathing. It’s eating my tongue,
blinding my ears, and screaming from
my eyes so that I can only taste, hear,
and see through the mirror in front of
me. I reach out to touch that wall of
glass. Cold. Hard.
But not impenetrable.
There’s a crack in the top corner.
I stick my finger in it because I want to
understand brokenness. I want to bleed
with meaning.

My eyes trace the porcelain figure in
front of me. Gasping for the in between
lines of life. Choking up shards too
sharp to swallow. Fists full of veins
throbbing with a pain that cannot be
reflected. You reveal all but hide
everything. I’m imprisoned in your
panes- Kissing, blinding, breathing,
screaming, bleeding- Shatter Me!

 

 

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