The bricks in my fingers
Shatter all that I touch.
Each fragment that lingers
Doesn’t wound me as much
As I think it should.
I tried to keep things intact,
Held softly as I could,
Yet they always cracked.
I attempted a fix
With glue, thread, and rope
But failed at these tricks
And abandoned hope.
In relenting, I heard
A new message spoken,
Insidious words—
“They’re more beautiful broken.”

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