Fragments

It's hard

that's pain, leaving it piece by piece,

it was broken anyway,

no one could fix it (it's not like a bicycle

or a minor cut, not even like cancer),

no one even wanted to fix it:

for the longest time, it defined me, made me

feel so powerful,

not letting it go, but letting it harden

like a rock, a proud rock, not letting in

water, not letting anything or anyone in,

blocked, uncommitted, not being able to

believe

that people really existed.

It is like you're one of the dead, trying to

make yourself believe you are

not affected by the living,

but even the not even born

are affected by the living, so

I ask, where have those pieces

of pain gone.

They broke my face off piece by piece,

easing its gestures, making the access

to emotions and thoughts so much easier

onto my face, into my face, the gates open...

the iron wall breaks to let in the dead

even after...