Wednesday 16 December 2009

Broken Pieces


When she awoke this time, she felt sad. Nothing had happened to make her feel this way, she just did. Her eyes examined the grey, almost stormy, sky above. It was not a dramatic sky, just one that threatened something, or nothing. The stars were still there, dotted randomly between the cloud and the moon hung full and outlined, in a shadow, almost transparent.

Many times she would awake like this, feeling intensely wrong, or sad. Her legs were missing again, from the knees, and her heart was carved carefully, but neatly on her chest. The point where her torso joined her pelvis was folded and creased like an accordion, pivoting without control and creaking with every movement. Her hair was gone, a band aid slapped on the side of her head where something had been careless and brutal. No care taken when placing her here.

She sat in the granite, crystal-like sand. Her stumps spread before her and her arms dropped uselessly at her sides. Her fingers trailed across the ground, picking at the paper hearts that had been shaken from her soul. This is why she was sad. She was losing heart. The winter tree behind shaded her from nothing. It’s life long drained away, gaping holes where the foliage of comfort once had been. She was exposed, stripped bare, dismantled and reassembled in the most horrific ways. Grit-filled tears filled her painted eyes, the acrylic from an artists brush stinging and reminding her to look down at her disjointed form.

You ask too many questions, she thought… that’s why it ended this way.

An eternity of broken pieces.




~ Charlotte Sometimes (SRWB) 2009



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