-- Broken ---
May 20 '03
The Bottom Line I haven't written a complete poem in almost a decade. Well, the result is a painful, self-pitying disaster, but what are you going to do....?
--- Broken ---
Pieces of me
Spread across the landscape
Of this desolate country
Strangers wander about
Briefly
They see the pieces, bend down to pick them up
The strangers query the pieces, attempt to join them together
But no two will fit together
To become whole
You
You bent down to grip some of the shards of mine
I knowingly left behind for you
If the sharp edges cut you
You never said so
You behaved as if all was okay..........
.... at least you tried to.....
What you held in your hands
Should tell you all you needed to know
That the person who carelessly left them behind for you
Was damaged, was broken........
I know that you picked them up
Secretly, I believe that I meant to drop them
In hopes that you would pick them up
And want to pursue the dry terrain of my soul
So as to find the rest........
But even if you wanted so passionately to answer my selfish yearning........
...... you could never repair me...........
......... you would only make yourself broken too.
Why did I compose this poem
For you?
Why do I say these things to you?
Why am I cutting out another piece of myself?
When I should behave like “everyone else”, whomever that is........
....... I’m broken, simple answer.
I was never assembled properly,
And none of the pieces match.
Each section is useful on its own
Meaningful as individual constructions
But none can fit together
They cannot communicate, make sense to themselves, or to the user.......
So what the bloody hell is the problem with this thing?
I would never know how to love you
I would never know
As much as I would want to......
..... as beautiful as you have always been to my eyes........
.... your business with me, if the transaction was made, would never work out
You would discover that I was a defective product
And return me to the point of purchase
Demanding compensation for emotional pain and suffering.......
Maybe I need you more than anything
Maybe I need to believe that you’ll accept those shattered, ugly, jagged pieces
Instead of throwing them out
Maybe I want to believe that you’re just as damaged as I am
And that those pains I get
Are from the jagged, lethal edges of you, and not from myself
But that’s just wishful thinking
from someone who doesn’t know how
to make oneself
unbroken
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Epinions.com ID:
DavidMac
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Member: David Macdonald
Location: Prince Edward Island
Reviews written: 612
Trusted by: 109 members
About Me:
Alice, a story in nine parts, posted on Sept 24, 2008 - http://www.epinions.com/content_5241348228
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