Sunday, February 28, 2010

fragments

I feel like everything that fell to pieces kind of convey some sense of relief, or peace, I don't know. It's heartbreaking, yet liberating at the same time, like the tension of holding everything together is no longer there, the point of no return is also the point of freedom from responsibility.

At the end of the day, what we truly want, we cannot articulate. Not to ourselves, not to the pair of eyes next to us. It's just an endless line of vases and vases, each straining to hold itself together, to contain all this water that threatens to overflow at the brim. At which point is it okay to knock the vase over? At which point is it okay to fall to pieces?

Shatter shatter. Spilling to the concrete, the shards sparkle quietly. Step on them, make a sound. Feel the little crystals multiplying beneath your feet. See how they catch the fluorescent lights above you. The water on the ground creeps slowly outwards, staining everything in its path the way it always does. See how beautiful broken can be.

So just fall apart with me.

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