B r o k e n

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
At one point or another, we break. All of us. But do we really want to be fixed?

Submitted: January 10, 2011

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Submitted: January 10, 2011

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He loved her.
The worn knees of his jeans uncreased as he stood,
And he reached out for the shattered porcelain doll that hurtled towards his chest.
The protruding glass cut his fingers, but his hands were so gentle
And warm
As he cradled the beautiful fragments in his arms.
 
Oh, she was so broken.
Her arms limp with despondency,
And cherry lips cold with the tears of glossy eyes.
She was so broken,
But he didn’t try to fix her.
The worn knees of his jeans creased as he sat again.
 
He would hold her for as long as he needed to.
Until she could fix herself.


© Copyright 2020 Chermanent Palk. All rights reserved.

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