She's shattered into a million fractal pieces
This woman made into a mosaic
This goddess, this queen
The one with the golden heart that turns others green

It breaks me too when I find
That I can't replace all the missing pieces
And put this ethereal beauty back together
Not back to the state she was before she was fractured

The sun, the moon
The stars, the sky
The dusk, the dawn

She is everything in life that is right
A beauty gift wrapped in insecutity
How many different ways can you tell her she's perfect,
Before she finally looks in the mirror and believes it?

She believes that life is only work, anger, and hatred
She believes a man can only lie, harm, and detonate
She doesn't see life for the spectrum it is
Full of a million gradients coveting all the glory

Some days she believes it
She tells herself and everyone around her
She is confident and beautiful, capable of love and happiness
Until the next day comes and once again she's in pieces

I'd like to see the day a smile is on her face
Not drawn or molded
Like magic it appears and never fades
The day the beautiful mosaic is once again

Complete

Happy Valentine's Day
you lucky *******.
If not for the usual, severe
exhaustion I might have
something to share or
sometime to spare.
Alas, insomnia
suits me better
than dear sleep
that I pray will
take me 'afore I
continue to lose
a few good brain cells,
Or a few more friends.

My world needs dimming,
Turn the lights down low
and stick something on; ****** Bed
Track by The Bluetones. Everyone's
gotta make their mark. Sleep calls to me
and I'm trying to call back
as she strokes
my tired back,
Arching, aching
and shaking with
hysterical, delirious
laughter. Gleaming
needlepoint, sooth me.
*"You're the only friend I need,

Sharing beds like little kids
and laughing 'til our ribs get tough
but that will never be enough".

I am fragile.
I can shatter.
I disguise myself as steel.
Cold, hard, shiny steel.
Steel is strong, reliable, unbreakable.
But as much as I try to convince myself, I will always be glass.
I paint myself every morning, wrap myself in a cloak of strength.
I zip on a suit of trustworthy mother-ness.
I protect my people, I listen to their troubles.
I shelter them from harm, but the dome of protection I offer only looks like steel.
Truly? It is glass.
It chips with every tear shed by another.
It cracks with every problem unloaded.
It splits with every oblivious blind eye turned.
If only people asked whether I was okay, for once.
If only people cared enough to ask if I had any problems.
Even so, I often don’t know what is wrong.
Sometimes, my glass self shatters, and it wasn’t caused by anything.
When I do break, I gather the shards before they hit the ground.
I quickly slot them back and cover the cracks before anyone notices.
It is an old habit.
I hide any of my own problems, so as to help others deal with theirs.
But I am not steel.
I am glass.
I can shatter.
I am fragile.

It's so very difficult
It
Is
So very difficult
To stand tall with a broken soul
To love very much with a broken heart
To think at all