fragmentation
a poem of identity, or lack thereof
I am a jigsaw of broken glass
Each piece on the verge of reach
My fingertips graze the razor edges
Leaving me with
The wounds of wanting
The scattered shards
Reflect strange faces
All me, and none
If the fragments came together
Who would I see?
Am I glass or a mirror?
Perhaps my surface
Will always show cracks
Reflecting something true
Perhaps knowing myself
Was always going
To draw blood
About the Creator
Mina Carey
Self ๏ปฟproclaimed weirdo, collector of hobbies, creator of worlds and hunter of mysteries. Let's find our new hyperfixation together.
https://sp0reprintspectrum.carrd.co/
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mycelial
If I were a mushroom and you were a tree I would have found you already โ threaded myself through the dark to where your roots reach down and wove myself in. They see my fruit. Beautiful enough to want, too dangerous to hold. But you would know what lives beneath โ the web of me, moving through every dark and patient inch between us. I would bring you what the deep holds. You would give me light made solid. Neither of us would need a word for it โ the forest never has. When you find me you wonโt feel the finding, only that you always knew where your roots were going.
By Mina Carey5 days ago in Poets
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โYou got that?โ My ex yelled. His hands were balled into fists at his side. At six foot three, he towered over me. A normal person would have been afraid, but I looked up a video of George Lopez repeatedly saying, โI got this,โ and showed it to him. I had grown used to this treatment, so much so that I didnโt blink when he ripped the phone from my hand and threw it across the room.
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