I stand in the blazing sun that doesn’t warm in an effort to make the pieces fit. My eyes lift each wedge in directions that echo the dispirited weight I carry like a grocery bag that is light enough to walk for miles.
The night before was pain. The hurt of a drunken inferno and the voices of loved ones killing me with each syllable of disdain and exhaustion.
Today there is glass everywhere.
I beg passersby to pull me away from the project of my life. To them, this mess evokes the need to walk around and escape the plight of being cut unawares.
For me, it’s a matter of living by the script of shattered dreams that I see through as I cling my arms around my body while gazing at my reflection.
I will let the accident remain as is in order to be whole again.