Oozing out
of the brittle membrane
that so inadequately shielded
the soul:
I gasp as the
hammer of your words
strike
against
me.
Thin lines spider
around and about
the fragile mask I so sought
to treasure...
breaking in its entirety
the smooth, faultless
curve of white.
Once the deed has been done,
I cannot help but to come
undone at the seams.
Seams which have no power
to be stitched up again.
Fault lines which cannot be
hastily glued back together
and shoved roughly back onto
the shelf
of
Life.
For that was child's play.
And there's no going back.
No matter how hard one tries.
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