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Broken: A Poem


There is an angel on my mantel
My mother gave to me.
A trinket she found
In a gift card shop
One summer day.
Dressed in yellow with a halo
Sweet, chocolate face
Hair in a bun
And hands in an embrace…
Sitting “Indian style” on a bed of daisies
It reminded her of me
Until I broke her
It was an accident.
Except for the crack in her wing
She’s perfect.
But Broken.
I tried to hide it.
Move it under some things to distract it.
I tried to ignore it.
But it just glared at me
Obviously wounded.
I tried to fix her.
Using any cheap glue to mend her.
But it didn’t last.
And just like this little ceramic angel
With her broken wing.
I tried to mend the pieces of my heart
With any old glue of a guy I could find.
He didn’t work.
He wouldn’t stay.
He was just made of the wrong stuff.
I should have known that cheap substitutions just won't do.
I tried to hide my heart
With a smile and fancy things.
I tried to ignore the pain
The throbbing deep within that aches to my core.
My wing won’t mend.
I can’t fly
Due to the accident of loving too hard for far too long and to the wrong people.
I sit still, with hands folded.
Just like that angel
Bound in a prayer.
Hopeless and waiting
She’s broken
Just like me.


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