Pieces broke away, pebbles and stones chipped from a boulder. The edge of a pane of glass broken off, no longer smoothly square, but rough ridged like a broken thumb nail, begging to be filed away.
Pieces broken away, missing in wordlessness, cannot be found. Jig saw together the rest, glue, duct tape, what is left, never to imitate new, unbroken.
Broken, hollowed parts, make for an ever incomplete, an always abyss to fall headlong into, always a scratchy roughness to scrape a knee, an elbow, a hand. Always a sharp edge to slice open an abdomen, an arm, a femoral artery, a throat.
No. No. No. Everything, everything at once, best kept at arm’s length. Never can such wounds be allowed in the here, in the now.
Could you, would you know the darkness too? Or would you try to erase it as others do? Would you ignore it? Say you wanted it gone? Say your touch should drive away the darkness within? The darkness is there– inside me, it has always been, I need it, need it to be there, just a spot or two. I need it to visit, take a trip with it. Occasionally— ride a night, a day, all the stars at times, sleep and wake with it. It keeps me strong, this steel skeleton of my heart and soul, keeps me whole, makes me who I am. My darkness does not need some antidepressant elixir. My darkness is a shit pile of things, years, and incidents I keep tucked away– a part of me.
Could you, would you know it? Keep it, if given? Or tell me to let it go and get over it like others have? Could you, would you understand how happiness can be had and yet keep the darkness for creating, repairing, reinforcing the steel railings of my spine, my soul, my heart, my mind, my all that I am. Could you, would you understand, without the darkness, I cannot give you all that I am?
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