The days are all broken now…like fragments of a
lovely vase in emerald and cobalt, that slipped through her fingers, to shatter
upon this harsh concrete slab of struggle and reality. And still the heart
would not let go, fueled by this delegation of scorn to stalk and covet each scattered bend of day …Those
mornings in cobalt and long emerald afternoons… are now
only fragments of a forgotten whole…and no amount of glue or fusing can restore
them to their rightful order…Reality. They will never again be anything more
than colorful pieces in the bright hues of a dream or hidden shards in the
crevice of a tattered memory, and now her only sight of things to come are days
with empty spaces so vast she can not fathom. Like a universe inside of this
broken and defeated girl crouched upon the slab. She might have given up
then…she might have She begins to scoop
the pieces of day with fingers nicked and tear stained hands and forms them
over once again into the beautiful vase of a new day…with added elements of
depth and crimson…she realizes the
broken days of before are now the colorful foundations of all her tomorrows.