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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2203511
After the divorce
We had a problem.
Where you existed so much
That I ceased to.
I was a cicada skin perched on some
Summer tree limb

Outside screaming

But fragile enough to be broken
With a breath
I am reminding myself now
Of who I am
When I am allowed to shine

You can be broken
On your own
I am sweeping up
The eggshells that I walked on
The sound of my footsteps
Around this empty house
Are reminders of the ways that I can change

I am fire baked red clay
I am 102 degrees on a spring day
I am as invincible
As I allow myself to be.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2203511