Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ray Dunn Aug 2019
my mosaic
is shattered
my stain glass
in tatters
sometimes i hum tunes and sing words along with them and this cake into my head and yeah that’s basically it. it has no meaning in my life rn ****
B D Caissie Aug 2019
You manipulated me like clay into the finest of hearts.
Then smashed it to pieces into the most priceless of arts.
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
"How can no one see?" he said softly, almost as a whisper that made her brow rise in confusion. But there was a strange slight relief around the curviness of her lips and in those dark deep blue eyes that seemed to have lit up turning a shade lighter. She exhaled a sigh of relief as though she was glad someone was asking or even talking to her.
"How can no one hear the air carrying the whispers of your cries? How can no one see the merge between the depthful ocean and the mysterious galaxy in your eyes? Does no one feel the sadness leaking out of your pores? The way your smile is never complete, how your cheeks does not swallow your eyes no more. Does no one see your face and say You're a beautiful masterpiece made of all these broken pieces and I want to know more."
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
A masterpiece of intricate mosaic,
a beauty underlied with chaos.
She lets them see,
what she wants them to see.
Chris Saitta Jun 2019
The immortal is the time before the rain
When we have thoughts of it afterward.  
By then, the mosaic of tongue and its words
Are broken stones swept away
By the shuttling broom of storm.
For a slide video of this and other poems, please check out my Instagram page at chrissaitta or my Tumblr page at Chris-Saitta.
She was like a broken mirror
Anything beautiful, she would reflect
A reflection abnormally distorted
Her perspective could not connect
She could not see the sparkle
Of the sunset sprinkled on the waves
She couldn't share the happiness of others
Because her feelings weren't quite the same
People's smiles were always crooked
Compliments were always misheard
Acts of kindness were disappointments
Expressions of love were just words
She was tired of being broken
Constantly blinded to beauty
She gave up holding her pieces together
Loosening her grip more than slightly
Her broken pieces then fell apart
Into a pile of shattered looking glass
She laid there with her hollow frame
As she could finally rest at last
Her self destruction symbolized
Her innermost desire for rebirth
Her lack of knowing what was beauty
Did not take away her worth
She realize her vision's distortion
Only showcased her perception
Her definition of beauty
Was different beyond interpretation
She arranged her shattered pieces
In a way her beauty befits
On the ground where she laid
Was a beautiful mosaic
I declared myself dependent
on patience you
took it personally
as if I compare you to the rest
of them breakers
claiming it's not
your case here you are
after tasting me
throwing me toys and saying
I should play with
those instead words
are for grown-ups
- yet you make mosaics out of sapphire hearts
I sit on the counter, feet draped over the sink watching the sun rise over the trees through the open window
As I bring my coffee to my lips I feel the familiar chip
The one that my lips have felt every morning for years
This cup snuggles perfectly between my small hands, the warmth shielding them from the cool spring air

This cup has been through a lot
A few moves
More than a few lovers

The Alice in Wonderland decal has worn off and the seafoam enamel is cracked-- a mosaic of all the times I didn't care enough to hand wash it
The handle fell off once, I wanted to practice the Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken things with liquid gold
But I'm a college student, so glittery modge podge worked just fine

In many ways I am this cup
Used, well loved
Slightly broken, held together with glitter and good intentions
I don't mind the cracks
In the cup or in me
Cracks show that you are strong, can handle whatever is thrown at you, heartbreak or linoleum
They also allow light in
To brighten when darkness is all you can seem to find

As I reach the last sips of my coffee the sun is well up
My cats are hungry and I'm running late
Some days it's worth tardiness to reconnect to a part of you you thought was lost

Today is one of those days
Next page