You broke me into a million pieces and left my remains scattered all over the floor.
You didn't want to pick them up and fix me because you worried you were going to get cut, even though the pain wouldn't be comparable to my own.
So you know what I had to do?
I had to pick them all up again and fix myself, the crooks and crannies of the shards of glass becoming something abstract.
I became something new.
The trace of what I once was ceases to exist, and I'm a completely new and unidentifiable masterpiece.
- I've changed, and I thank you for that.
YOU ARE READING
her revelation (journal entries)
Poetryjournal entries containing poetry and thoughts about all three people i've been in love with, along with some traumas and self-loathing sprinkled in-between.
