between my broken hands


 

the rain always runs
but for a fleeting moment leaves them wet
my mirror is in pieces in too many places
but were it whole I disappear
there will be none of me left
I was punished most of life
for having breasts for smiling
for having breasts for crying
but now I know, had I not, they who must
will find something else
it was the best of times,
it was the worst of times,
sorry, Mr. Dickens
and thank you

 
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2 Responses

  1. That is a beautiful sad poem, Ms Mist, an idea, an emotion entwined in a moment.

    Thanks Mr.Squires :)!

  2. such sadness yet such beauty flows from within your words.
    I have missed coming here!

    ~Thanks Duma Key, and I missed having you here, welcome back :)!

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