Cohesive

Broken is a beautiful adjective;

I use it to describe the porcelain doll

That looked like a reincarnation of my 4 year old self;

Precarious came in close second;

When she sky-dived off the table she chipped,

Her head in splitting scars

Like she had had a massive migraine

Or had undergone plate tectonics.

When I tried filling her back together

With glue,

I was trying to create a voice amidst an awkward silence,

But the

Void…

Between the cracks still shone through.

Being broken made me cohesive;

I live like one collective mosaic;

I am pieces of things that by themselves,

Couldn’t survive without me,

The host of the life of the party.

I’ve got cracks

That I know my soul leaks out of

To become ink

And fragments of thoughts

That somehow know how,

(Like intuition)

To come together,

And find their own beauty.  

Scars fade…

When you know how to catch

Yourself in the right angle

Of light.