Broken Bits

  
 Pain,
 A squeezing down
 Into nothingness,
 Into blackness,
 Into broken bits
 In the chest.
  
 Pain,
 A soreness remains after
 The squeezing fist
 Grinds down 
 These shards of glass,
 The broken bits,
 This blackness
 Into nothingness
 That began long ago. 
 A damage
 Left of childhood
 Whimpers.
  
 Pain,
 The squeezing down
 Of a nightmare
 And 
 The leaking valve
 Of this hole 
 In my chest.
   

Published by

Annette Kalandros

I am a retired teacher, enjoying everything that retirement means. In addition, I have been active in the LGBTQ community since I was four years old and marched my Ken doll with all his little Ken accouterments to the big metal trash can in the yard. Yes, I dumped Ken, along with said accouterments, into the can and slammed the lid on. My two Barbie dolls lived happily ever after.

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