The Shards of Broken Glass

Somewhere along the lines, it must feel comforting to someone when a bell rings inside the depths of the soul. Tonight, there is a deep, longing sadness that was fueled from loneliness. I can’t explain this feeling, but it feels low, like a heaviness inside myself, deep into my middle core. I keep myself busy throughout the day, but it is at night that the things I run from haunts me. I know this. I fight it, but I know this. The lonely night encases me in its cold, dark arms, like a comforting but unwanted blanket.

How did I get here, where the lonely place has become the norm? What happened that made me deserving of this? The salt of my tears become too familiar, too close. They color the stains that were left from tears from yesterday, and suddenly layers and layers of them exist where creased smile lines used to lay. How did I get here? Please, how did I get here?

I tiptoe through the daylight, hoping the light would catch me, hold me to safety, pin me to the ground where it is safe in vulnerability and openness, where my authenticity is interpreted as genuine. But light chases me, and I am still a shadow of the darkness. It is what is left.

I know I’m caving inside. The hollow space that has grown over the years have become bigger, and I’m not entirely sure where these vestiges of ashes came from. I wonder how I did not notice them before — how did they creep into my home, into my safe place, into my heart that I thought I knew so well? How did it become one ash at a time, until the ashes became baggage?

The night is heavy tonight. I am too tired of lifting.

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