Maybe it was too late in the day to do such things, but she tried to solve his riddle
Under the glow of a full moon, she contemplated what he had said and how he had said it
So many possibilities rattled around her cranium, demanding she fit the moving pieces together
Her head started to pound as she felt the pieces fly away, her ability to comprehend slowly devolving to…
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Bring on all that smoked pork awesomeness
And let me eat till I want to oink
Can I get an amen, my piggy people?
Oh you might say I am a hog for engorging myself on the crispy pieces of heaven, and you would be correct
Now that being said, does this desire make me a cannibal?
Selling pieces of his soul was the only way he could get ahead
They were not large pieces, but they all added up
Outside everything was fine, but inside, the echoes of who he had been became a cacophony
Relegating his self-worth into moral bankruptcy
Eventually, he ran out of product, closed up shop, and faded from memory
His heart was shattered into shards that stabbed his soul and made it bleed
Every day he tried to put one or two more pieces back together as best he could
And some days his heart broke more than he fixed it, yet overall
Living slowly got better, forever different, but better
Baby porcelain doll, the last one her daughter had ever held, burst into sharp shards as it hit the floor
Releasing so many emotions in her, some she thought she had closed within that small casket
Everyone around her just stopped and stared, silent, not knowing what to do or say
As she watched those pieces scatter she started drowning in a psychological flood
Keeping the tears away was impossible as she felt something inside of her…
What seemed so light moments before threatened to pull her down into the depths of despair
Every time it happened it took so much strength to try to pick up the pieces and try to move on
It was no use. She broke.
Giving way to the gravity of it all, she sunk to the floor
Her eyes teared up, the heavy drops of water falling
They were children!
Focusing on her reflection in the mirror
Rachel wondered how she could go on
After everything she’d been through, there was so little left
Glass was far more robust than her current mental state
It felt like at any moment she would shatter into a million pieces
Leaving emotional shards across the floor
Except that’s when her son came by and gave her a hug, pulling her back together.
Realizing there are times when you are broken inside
Everything just rattles around and you feel the stabbing of the sharp pieces
Putting that back together would be difficult if not impossible
Leaving what would be left is an incomplete you
As some of the parts would be lost or the edges rounded to leave gaps
Covered with tape and superglue. Looking in the mirror you don’t recognize your own soul
Embrace a new chance, a new hope, a new you and let the rubble be recycled
Under a gloomy gray sky, she looked at the shattered pieces of her life strewn at her bleeding feet. She stood there dumbfounded. Everything was gone in mere moments! She cried and almost just gave up, but…
Time kept moving.
Tears dried.
The sun crept out from behind the clouds.
She grabbed a broom and began to clean up the mess that had been her life and threw it away. She kept a couple of small pieces to remind herself of the before times. She then made a cup of tea and looked at the horizon.
The phoenix watched and learned.
Clutter of electronics covered his desk like high tech lichen on a wooden rock
Reality bending miracles of the past now mere pieces and memories
And he kept contributing new relics to the collection
Swearing, he flicked the switch again, but
His computer still wasn’t booting, just more of the blue plague infecting his vision
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Wise. Witchy. Wonderful.
Story world
Never Short On Words 