Realized
January 29, 2008
Posted in Poetry, The well |
“Break me” she said. “Break me, break me. And when it’s done, when it’s all over, you can put the pieces back together however you want to.”
But like a jigsaw puzzle, her pieces were meant to only fit one way.
“You can make me, invent me, create me. I’ll belong to you and only you. You’ll hold the secret. My cracks, my flaws only reminders that I was born from your hands.”
Damaged goods, that’s how I saw it. Unfortunately, I had already broken her. Her cracks and flaws only reminders of what she was made of.
Worth breaking.
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Cracks from your own woumb, like a shattered mirror
Her cracks and flaws only reminders of what she was made of.
I hope that my cracks, my flaws are more a tribute of what I survive and overcome. At least they are to me although I can’t control what others think.
Quand je dis que chus pas certain qui donne l’atelier à qui…
DAMN that’s harsh.
Nezar, c’est un fragment. quand j’aurai fini avec le texte (voir Devoir II), texte en chantier, then ya, harsh it will be.