I told you I was broken

and with a manic urgency you set off

screaming down the road of

destructive positivity –

“You’re perfect, babydoll.”

“You’re just fine.”

“Are you smoking crack, ‘cause that’s broken.

And you aren’t broken.”

I am okay with my broken.

I have no need to lessen who I am.

I am the steep, sharp edges of a cliffside.

I have watched as fickle shards of myself have cracked,

slipped and fallen into the sea.

I am headlights careening off

the sparkling bits of broken mirror glass.

I am shadow men lurking in the bushes,

impenetrable memories,

and one hell of an autonomic system.

I am human glitter –

a thousand, million pieces of all the things that have happened,

sharp and sparkling and elusive enough

to hide in your very plain sight.

So no, I’m not “smoking crack” broken.

I’m me, broken.

And we’re all glitter from down here.

© Laura A Lord, 2021

Thank you to MindLoveMisery for the prompt.

10 responses to “Glitter”

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