first poem in awhile

I wear brokenness around my neck –

It's a green scarf with stripes- tattered but still fashionable.

I hide myself in it to keep from sudden exposure

To the crashing sky that breathes

Heavy, knockyaover winds

I carry brokenness with me

Slung upon one aching shoulder

- a quilted bag, each patch telling

stories of a place once strange to me.

stories I have chosen to forget.

I punch brokenness through the holes in my body

The black and white half moons dangle,

dragging my ears down with their weight

But vain beauty keeps them there all day.

My brokenness attracts other people.

The vivid colors, intricate patterns

Sometimes begs the question-

"Where did you get it?"

I am hesitant to reply. I don't want to brag.

As I stutter the place's name I still sound

Exotic. Lovely. Noble.

I am not those things.

I do not know why I choose to wear these pieces.

Especially when it relates to a place I'd care not

To re-visit. Perhaps because I can only be

At least a shadow of the girl I once was. But each

Accessory has brought the demise of that form of me.

I can't look back. Not even with the reminders.

I wear my brokenness as novelty now-

paraded with pride, people mistaking it with loveliness.

In private, I notice the scheme but

It's the only way it will fit.