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Each time we were together, a new piece was added to the elaborate porcelain vase. One day, we saw each other no more and the vase was thrown to the floor. Pieces scattered in a mushroom cloud and flew up to mock me in the face. Silence rained down. I solemnly took a broom and swept the pieces into a trash bin, which I set gently in a seldom-visited corner of my mind. Every once-in-a-while, the trash bin is kicked over and several pieces skate across the smooth linoleum. I pick them up, turning them over in my palm, examining the memories, and toss them carelessly back into the bin.
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Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 1:26 PM UTC
Vase
Each time we were together, a new piece was added to the elaborate porcelain vase. One day, we saw each other no more and the vase was thrown to the floor. Pieces scattered in a mushroom cloud and flew up to mock me in the face. Silence rained down. I solemnly took a broom and swept the pieces into a trash bin, which I set gently in a seldom-visited corner of my mind. Every once-in-a-while, the trash bin is kicked over and several pieces skate across the smooth linoleum. I pick them up, turning them over in my palm, examining the memories, and toss them carelessly back into the bin.
October 11, 1997
left-brained-poet
Written by
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 1:26 PM UTC
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