stick around till the end to hear the old me come out a lil lmaoo

-

-

-

nothing shatters clean.

the break is always

jagged—

a history of pressure,

not an accident.

-

you kneel among the pieces

like theyre sacred,

fingertips careful,

not to fix

but to witness.

-

there is no erasing.

only gold dust

and lacquer,

a slow devotion

wo what once gave way

under too much weight.

-

you dont pretend it never broke.

you say:

look here,

this is where it hurt most—

this is where the light gets in.

-

and the bowl,

cracked and gleaming,

holds just as much

as it did before—

maybe more

-

not because its whole,

but because it remembers

how it wasnt

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