#fracture - Hello Poetry

#fracture

Splinters of Absence "Absence cuts deep, yet its splinters still glimmer.” I knew you once as open hands, a voice that carried warmth like firelight, a kindness that bent the shadows back. Then came the fracture – silence sharp as glass, splinters of absence lodged in my chest. Two Kayos stand before me: one who laughed, who shared, who let the world feel tender; and one who vanished, sealed her words behind stone, erased me like a stain. I press my ear to the crack between them, listening for the echo of truth. Is love still hidden in the shards, or only fear reflected in the mirror’s break? The beauty of brokenness is not the wound, but the light that leaks through fissures. Even shattered glass scatters brilliance, even silence teaches me to sing. So I carry both faces – the splendid and the shattered – knowing that what breaks does not erase what was real, only reshapes the way it shines.

0

Jan 28

Jan 28, 2026 at 10:47 AM UTC

Splinters of Absence

Splinters of Absence "Absence cuts deep, yet its splinters still glimmer.” I knew you once as open hands, a voice that carried warmth like firelight, a kindness that bent the shadows back. Then came the fracture – silence sharp as glass, splinters of absence lodged in my chest. Two Kayos stand before me: one who laughed, who shared, who let the world feel tender; and one who vanished, sealed her words behind stone, erased me like a stain. I press my ear to the crack between them, listening for the echo of truth. Is love still hidden in the shards, or only fear reflected in the mirror’s break? The beauty of brokenness is not the wound, but the light that leaks through fissures. Even shattered glass scatters brilliance, even silence teaches me to sing. So I carry both faces – the splendid and the shattered – knowing that what breaks does not erase what was real, only reshapes the way it shines.

Continue reading...

I am a house that keeps its lights on for strangers who arrive with empty hands and leave with my silverware rattling in their pockets. They say I am warm. They say I am easy. They say thank you with mouths still full. There is a feral torque in my chest, a splintered heat, a howling corrosion that never cools— only learns new shapes. I have been a bridge with ribs showing. A gas station at midnight. A wallet mistaken for a heart. A body translated into currency. They borrow me. They spend me. They discard the receipt. I try kindness like a spell, try softness like a shield, try love like a language everyone pretends not to understand. Still— I am passed hand to hand like loose change. There is rage in me now, not loud— dense. Molten. Salt-thick. It sits behind my eyes like a storm rehearsing its own name. I am overstimulated— the world scraping its teeth against my nerves, every sound too sharp, every touch a demand, every silence a verdict. I tell myself you’re fine the way you tell a bleeding thing to stay still. I am not pushing anyone away. The ground is moving. The doors are narrowing. The air is rationed. I keep escaping fires only to fall into furnaces. Over and over and over— my hurt multiplying like mirrors. I am disappointed in fate. I am dissatisfied with mercy. I am angry in a way that feels earned. Still— I do not want to be alone. I want someone who does not mistake my gentleness for permission. I am scared. Yes. But my fear has teeth now, and it is learning how to bite back.

0

Jan 21

Jan 21, 2026 at 2:53 AM UTC

A Mouthful of Matchsticks

I am a house that keeps its lights on for strangers who arrive with empty hands and leave with my silverware rattling in their pockets. They say I am warm. They say I am easy. They say thank you with mouths still full. There is a feral torque in my chest, a splintered heat, a howling corrosion that never cools— only learns new shapes. I have been a bridge with ribs showing. A gas station at midnight. A wallet mistaken for a heart. A body translated into currency. They borrow me. They spend me. They discard the receipt. I try kindness like a spell, try softness like a shield, try love like a language everyone pretends not to understand. Still— I am passed hand to hand like loose change. There is rage in me now, not loud— dense. Molten. Salt-thick. It sits behind my eyes like a storm rehearsing its own name. I am overstimulated— the world scraping its teeth against my nerves, every sound too sharp, every touch a demand, every silence a verdict. I tell myself you’re fine the way you tell a bleeding thing to stay still. I am not pushing anyone away. The ground is moving. The doors are narrowing. The air is rationed. I keep escaping fires only to fall into furnaces. Over and over and over— my hurt multiplying like mirrors. I am disappointed in fate. I am dissatisfied with mercy. I am angry in a way that feels earned. Still— I do not want to be alone. I want someone who does not mistake my gentleness for permission. I am scared. Yes. But my fear has teeth now, and it is learning how to bite back.

Continue reading...

The Two Selves of One Heart "Love sometimes lingers between the selves we are and the selves we lose." There was a time when everything was simple: our days braided together, her laughter bright as morning, her care a place I could rest in. That self of hers was real – open handed, warm, alive in the present. But another self emerged, quiet as a shadow slipping across a doorway. She answered less, then not at all, speaking only in the past tense as if love were a season already gone. That self was real too – closed, distant, unreachable. The past was real. The ending was unreal. Both truths stand. I loved the self who met me in the light. I was abandoned by the self who could not bear the weight of endings. They are the same person, but not the same self – one who opened the door, and one who locked it. And I, standing between them, kept calling to the first while the second held the silence. This is the shape of what happened: not a failure of love, but a fracture of selves – hers shifting away, mine still reaching for the truth.

0

Jan 15

Jan 15, 2026 at 11:13 AM UTC

The Two Selves of One Heart

The Two Selves of One Heart "Love sometimes lingers between the selves we are and the selves we lose." There was a time when everything was simple: our days braided together, her laughter bright as morning, her care a place I could rest in. That self of hers was real – open handed, warm, alive in the present. But another self emerged, quiet as a shadow slipping across a doorway. She answered less, then not at all, speaking only in the past tense as if love were a season already gone. That self was real too – closed, distant, unreachable. The past was real. The ending was unreal. Both truths stand. I loved the self who met me in the light. I was abandoned by the self who could not bear the weight of endings. They are the same person, but not the same self – one who opened the door, and one who locked it. And I, standing between them, kept calling to the first while the second held the silence. This is the shape of what happened: not a failure of love, but a fracture of selves – hers shifting away, mine still reaching for the truth.

Continue reading...

you spoke with your back turned like nothing was wrong the kettle sat screaming its blistering song your eyes crack with thunder I don’t look away. I taste every stormcloud and swallow the rain you asked if I loved you then smirked at the floor i said it too slowly, you moved for the door We fought in the hallway, your knuckles went red. You hit without blinking and meant what you said. you find every fracture then press where it stings You say, “it’s devotion,” and tighten your strings. You lean in, now limping, your voice raw and rough. We cling like survivors who'd suffered enough. Your hands then remember what you never confessed, you kiss where you hurt me and ask for the rest. but still, when you’re shaking, and all fury’s gone, I gather your pieces and whisper a song I stitched up the silence you gave me to keep and rocked us together til sorrow found sleep We curled in the ash what didn’t survive, and found even ruin leaves something alive.

0

Jun 2, 2025

Jun 2, 2025 at 12:26 AM UTC

William-A-Gibson

you spoke with your back turned like nothing was wrong the kettle sat screaming its blistering song your eyes crack with thunder I don’t look away. I taste every stormcloud and swallow the rain you asked if I loved you then smirked at the floor i said it too slowly, you moved for the door We fought in the hallway, your knuckles went red. You hit without blinking and meant what you said. you find every fracture then press where it stings You say, “it’s devotion,” and tighten your strings. You lean in, now limping, your voice raw and rough. We cling like survivors who'd suffered enough. Your hands then remember what you never confessed, you kiss where you hurt me and ask for the rest. but still, when you’re shaking, and all fury’s gone, I gather your pieces and whisper a song I stitched up the silence you gave me to keep and rocked us together til sorrow found sleep We curled in the ash what didn’t survive, and found even ruin leaves something alive.

Continue reading...

all was peaceful serene secure content in this sleepy isolation with only the dogs for company had i wished to disturb their soothing repose reading a little-known novel once heralded the hero if he could be called such was fracturing slowly on the brink of shattering before the incendiary final pages could be reached this dormant comfort erupted interrupted by a shattering much closer to home; the window once clear now frosted with cracks both dogs and man on the highest of alert searching for a cause anything to blame but finding nothing

0

May 6, 2022

May 6, 2022 at 6:19 PM UTC

MeanderingWords

all was peaceful serene secure content in this sleepy isolation with only the dogs for company had i wished to disturb their soothing repose reading a little-known novel once heralded the hero if he could be called such was fracturing slowly on the brink of shattering before the incendiary final pages could be reached this dormant comfort erupted interrupted by a shattering much closer to home; the window once clear now frosted with cracks both dogs and man on the highest of alert searching for a cause anything to blame but finding nothing

Continue reading...

In this hou se I sit on a chair t hat has yet to be m oved it takes tim e to pack up furnitur e that decorated a home I trace my f ingers on a groove in the wood grain of the kitchen table a mistake f rom when you cut app les without a cutting bo ard for you were runni ng late to work and d idn't have time to take care but it was okay what was one mark on a wooden table anyway ? I was not angry about i t perhaps I should've be en since you feel like I don't feel anything then maybe you wouldn't be moving out of my hea rt without me

0

Feb 10, 2021

Feb 10, 2021 at 4:03 PM UTC

Stress Fracture

In this hou se I sit on a chair t hat has yet to be m oved it takes tim e to pack up furnitur e that decorated a home I trace my f ingers on a groove in the wood grain of the kitchen table a mistake f rom when you cut app les without a cutting bo ard for you were runni ng late to work and d idn't have time to take care but it was okay what was one mark on a wooden table anyway ? I was not angry about i t perhaps I should've be en since you feel like I don't feel anything then maybe you wouldn't be moving out of my hea rt without me

Continue reading...

I can't seem to find the thing to satiate a need in me that is yet to be met, it's the type of hunger food can't reduce, it's the type of pain that holds unrequited love for you, it's like a memory you want to store in your mind of a moment that didn't occur, it's like a fractured ground waiting for the rain to come down so flowers can grow from within the cracks, it's like love that you give but never receive back fully, it's like cold weather and short day time that beg for some white, yet it never snows, it's like not being able to find the name of the song whose melody is stuck in your head, it's like a battle that you lose before you even get to play.

0

Nov 23, 2020

Nov 23, 2020 at 7:41 PM UTC

I can't seem to find the thing to satiate a need in me that is yet to be met, it's the type of hunger food can't reduce, it's the type of pain that holds unrequited love for you, it's like a memory you want to store in your mind of a moment that didn't occur, it's like a fractured ground waiting for the rain to come down so flowers can grow from within the cracks, it's like love that you give but never receive back fully, it's like cold weather and short day time that beg for some white, yet it never snows, it's like not being able to find the name of the song whose melody is stuck in your head, it's like a battle that you lose before you even get to play.

Continue reading...

on the day of the double funeral I stand waiting for the rest of me to die, I am that I am but I harbor a bad disease. i should be anywhere and be doing anything other than what i am. because before Abraham was i am standing in the empty quarter reading a funeral manual on the day of the double sky burial. i’m poisoned off my pouch of yesterday’s mana. gums are bleeding this is yesterday’s daily bread. men cannot live off bread alone and the jackrabbit horde is coming home our own locust plague for a new Sahara. i stand with a hangman’s fracture lost on the old sermons in the sand. following my family’s footsteps sadly in the wrong direction, lost among the marking rocks. snow leopards of the black blizzard and my poison pouch of mana. drowning in the fires we cook a stray dog reaping all the whirlwinds I sound a 12 foot Tibetan horn on the day of a double funeral - perched in the dwelling of the solitude.

0

Aug 1, 2020

Aug 1, 2020 at 1:05 PM UTC

Houses of the Solitude

on the day of the double funeral I stand waiting for the rest of me to die, I am that I am but I harbor a bad disease. i should be anywhere and be doing anything other than what i am. because before Abraham was i am standing in the empty quarter reading a funeral manual on the day of the double sky burial. i’m poisoned off my pouch of yesterday’s mana. gums are bleeding this is yesterday’s daily bread. men cannot live off bread alone and the jackrabbit horde is coming home our own locust plague for a new Sahara. i stand with a hangman’s fracture lost on the old sermons in the sand. following my family’s footsteps sadly in the wrong direction, lost among the marking rocks. snow leopards of the black blizzard and my poison pouch of mana. drowning in the fires we cook a stray dog reaping all the whirlwinds I sound a 12 foot Tibetan horn on the day of a double funeral - perched in the dwelling of the solitude.

Continue reading...

This femme fatale A girl that captures She be bright and skin tight Shiny white with youth implied Conversing in quirky loops As we jump through her hoops Slowly showing error codes Could it be the alcohol Clap snap of bear traps Broken from within Signs of white lines that fracture Reactions to vast echoes of her past Trauma tinged before the dawn Soft but informed A hardened persona with claws

0

Jul 5, 2020

Jul 5, 2020 at 9:59 PM UTC

This femme fatale A girl that captures She be bright and skin tight Shiny white with youth implied Conversing in quirky loops As we jump through her hoops Slowly showing error codes Could it be the alcohol Clap snap of bear traps Broken from within Signs of white lines that fracture Reactions to vast echoes of her past Trauma tinged before the dawn Soft but informed A hardened persona with claws

Continue reading...

White radiant light and spectral sun Dark nightshade black and splitting moon. Here’s dreaming of a fractured world Where then’s too late and now’s too soon. White strands float with darkness looming Fearing what might fail to be Elusion from that one bright true thing Cruel circles of eternity. But when the line of shadow’s passed And brightness welcomes strands of white We shall see no shadows last They grow and fade in Nightshade’s light.

0

Jun 5, 2020

Jun 5, 2020 at 7:56 PM UTC

Nightshade’s Light

White radiant light and spectral sun Dark nightshade black and splitting moon. Here’s dreaming of a fractured world Where then’s too late and now’s too soon. White strands float with darkness looming Fearing what might fail to be Elusion from that one bright true thing Cruel circles of eternity. But when the line of shadow’s passed And brightness welcomes strands of white We shall see no shadows last They grow and fade in Nightshade’s light.

Continue reading...

i am utterly depressed cascading carelessly toward a home i know so well and with every breath getting closer to the last of mine taken breaking ground anew inside desiccated places where few have traveled before me for i have been the only traveler here i feel that's the way it's supposed to be remorselessly remote in an ever expanding universe we each sit alone in our tiny little pastures fractured but with a curse for connection and a penchant for self destruction generally of ill intention 'tis but a sight upon which we must gaze one another across a thousand milky ways with hope that these sights might meet and greet so to speak each others swift heartbeats soon replete with lust and callous needs or is it a mirage my minds own trickery that deceives me believing so easily what my heart wants to see such fantasies don't seem to be free in reality they can be quite costly perpetually expecting the exact same thing from the same set of circumstances when what's happened before has caused such a guaranteed calamity seems i must be crazy and that's ok with me

0

May 13, 2020

May 13, 2020 at 5:23 AM UTC

Guaranteed Calamity

i am utterly depressed cascading carelessly toward a home i know so well and with every breath getting closer to the last of mine taken breaking ground anew inside desiccated places where few have traveled before me for i have been the only traveler here i feel that's the way it's supposed to be remorselessly remote in an ever expanding universe we each sit alone in our tiny little pastures fractured but with a curse for connection and a penchant for self destruction generally of ill intention 'tis but a sight upon which we must gaze one another across a thousand milky ways with hope that these sights might meet and greet so to speak each others swift heartbeats soon replete with lust and callous needs or is it a mirage my minds own trickery that deceives me believing so easily what my heart wants to see such fantasies don't seem to be free in reality they can be quite costly perpetually expecting the exact same thing from the same set of circumstances when what's happened before has caused such a guaranteed calamity seems i must be crazy and that's ok with me

Continue reading...

just a fracture, To be splinted, to try to fix, But if not, Or malunion. Re-break it.

0

May 10, 2019

May 10, 2019 at 4:35 PM UTC

vaishnavi-vesavkar

just a fracture, To be splinted, to try to fix, But if not, Or malunion. Re-break it.

Continue reading...

Do you sometimes feel like a pillar Like you are the last thing holding everything and everyone up Like you are the last thread preventing everything from unraveling So much so that you are not allowed to rest That if you do The hairline fractures in your foundation might widen Might become cracks that are no longer safe That anymore pressure will cause it all to collapse And that at the end of the day You are the only one eroding The only one who no longer can stand tall and true Can no longer be a pillar for you To slowly become dust Picked up by the wind Swept away and forgotten

0

Aug 13, 2018

Aug 13, 2018 at 1:08 AM UTC

Do you sometimes feel like a pillar Like you are the last thing holding everything and everyone up Like you are the last thread preventing everything from unraveling So much so that you are not allowed to rest That if you do The hairline fractures in your foundation might widen Might become cracks that are no longer safe That anymore pressure will cause it all to collapse And that at the end of the day You are the only one eroding The only one who no longer can stand tall and true Can no longer be a pillar for you To slowly become dust Picked up by the wind Swept away and forgotten

Continue reading...

Why is it that when I hurt myself It takes away the Hurt you caused

0

Jun 23, 2018

Jun 23, 2018 at 5:12 PM UTC

Breaking fractures

Why is it that when I hurt myself It takes away the Hurt you caused

Continue reading...

Signs say stress. I say the End of the World. A mental break Or a fractured world. The walls of my mind tremor The world falls apart at the fringe. Acute stress, prolonged stress. Acute suffering, prolonged suffering. Good lord, its the end. Oh God, the end of times. I see hints, hidden in plain sight. This diseased world, is apocalypse bound. Yet they'll say I'm not mentally sound. But the world dangles on a string.

0

May 2, 2018

May 2, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC

Tremors on my Mind

Signs say stress. I say the End of the World. A mental break Or a fractured world. The walls of my mind tremor The world falls apart at the fringe. Acute stress, prolonged stress. Acute suffering, prolonged suffering. Good lord, its the end. Oh God, the end of times. I see hints, hidden in plain sight. This diseased world, is apocalypse bound. Yet they'll say I'm not mentally sound. But the world dangles on a string.

Continue reading...

I wish you were here Instead you are there We belong together And it is not fair A weekend never ends When I am all alone You are somewhere far away And cannot get to a phone I am going dancing tonight But I will miss you the whole time And while I am spinning around You will be on my mind I truly am in love with you I would not break your heart Mine is at the fracture point Whenever we are apart

0

Apr 2, 2018

Apr 2, 2018 at 7:54 AM UTC

I wish you were here Instead you are there We belong together And it is not fair A weekend never ends When I am all alone You are somewhere far away And cannot get to a phone I am going dancing tonight But I will miss you the whole time And while I am spinning around You will be on my mind I truly am in love with you I would not break your heart Mine is at the fracture point Whenever we are apart

Continue reading...

It was a clean break or so they say. A simple fix. No additional trauma No need for drama. It'll heal just fine. Sure it was caused by the lover of a girl who just became a mother. She was lucky that their "Poor communication," Did not end up with a fracture that was comminuted. I never knew that a break could be clean or that a fracture could be stable. I'm still learning.

0

Dec 14, 2017

Dec 14, 2017 at 9:28 PM UTC

Stable Fracture

It was a clean break or so they say. A simple fix. No additional trauma No need for drama. It'll heal just fine. Sure it was caused by the lover of a girl who just became a mother. She was lucky that their "Poor communication," Did not end up with a fracture that was comminuted. I never knew that a break could be clean or that a fracture could be stable. I'm still learning.

Continue reading...

But you stopped loving me As did I Our Tiny Fragile Hearts Nestled in our chest Beat weakly as Thin fractures Creep Up Up Up Not beating That same rythme anymore. And You and I Which was once Us Became You & Me We smile But now it is empty. As close as family Family? What happens if you’re not close? Not anymore. We, H a v e Nothing anymore Sepia coloured photos Of nostalgia The good ol’ days Now it is different The love Of when we were young Has all But vanished We stopped Caring for each Other Now I see The heart is brittle I can already Feel Pieces coming off.

0

Dec 14, 2017

Dec 14, 2017 at 8:58 AM UTC

I’m not sure when It happened

But you stopped loving me As did I Our Tiny Fragile Hearts Nestled in our chest Beat weakly as Thin fractures Creep Up Up Up Not beating That same rythme anymore. And You and I Which was once Us Became You & Me We smile But now it is empty. As close as family Family? What happens if you’re not close? Not anymore. We, H a v e Nothing anymore Sepia coloured photos Of nostalgia The good ol’ days Now it is different The love Of when we were young Has all But vanished We stopped Caring for each Other Now I see The heart is brittle I can already Feel Pieces coming off.

Continue reading...

If ever there was, It is now, tomorrow, then. Oh god, when am I?

0

Oct 11, 2017

Oct 11, 2017 at 9:34 PM UTC

If ever there was, It is now, tomorrow, then. Oh god, when am I?

Continue reading...

I remember the telling signs, of the forsaken path I carved for myself at such a young age, hopelessly lost. The night terrors with bed wetting, a curiousity for the pain of others, and an undying love of flames. Triads are sacred, often depicting tales of both good and evil, where I fall somewhere broken in between. I drank till my belly was full, of that sweet gasoline, a hair trigger away from immolation. See fire was soothing, watching it all burn was the beginning of my perfect crooked world. Burning bridges, burning friends, burning anything for no real reason other than a crooked smile. This wildfire of a tortured soul was doomed the moment I met the truth. Only existing in the ashes, that evil had given the breathe of life. I saw them stare, right through me, never knowing what I was. Hating them for it, for this alienation, I will always remember. But this is but a fragment, of a fractured soul. Each broken shard screeching in the night for control. I have never known peace, just the madness. We do not even recognize ourselves anymore. Just faceless creatures, struggling for singularity. We bow to our king. His fiendish broken crown. Flashing his fangs. He laughs. Armageddon.

0

Jan 15, 2017

Jan 15, 2017 at 11:40 PM UTC

I remember the telling signs, of the forsaken path I carved for myself at such a young age, hopelessly lost. The night terrors with bed wetting, a curiousity for the pain of others, and an undying love of flames. Triads are sacred, often depicting tales of both good and evil, where I fall somewhere broken in between. I drank till my belly was full, of that sweet gasoline, a hair trigger away from immolation. See fire was soothing, watching it all burn was the beginning of my perfect crooked world. Burning bridges, burning friends, burning anything for no real reason other than a crooked smile. This wildfire of a tortured soul was doomed the moment I met the truth. Only existing in the ashes, that evil had given the breathe of life. I saw them stare, right through me, never knowing what I was. Hating them for it, for this alienation, I will always remember. But this is but a fragment, of a fractured soul. Each broken shard screeching in the night for control. I have never known peace, just the madness. We do not even recognize ourselves anymore. Just faceless creatures, struggling for singularity. We bow to our king. His fiendish broken crown. Flashing his fangs. He laughs. Armageddon.

Continue reading...