Something has broken off inside of me
I can feel it rattling around when I move
like the last penny in the piggy bank,
it keeps getting caught
It’s pale blue or hospital green
an inch or two square
but not perfectly square
Hard like a paint chip still attached to rusting metal
it clanks though my body
rolling chaotically on its corners
getting snagged on a rib, as if I’m hollow inside
It’s old and wants to get out
but I can’t imaging that happening,
not without a lot of pain
Those corners scare me
Maybe if I keep moving
I can smooth out the edges,
like glass tumbled by the sea
Make it less dangerous
even if it’s always there,
if it never gets out
It won’t matter as much.
4 thoughts on “Something Has Broken Off Inside of Me”
I’m glad this poem found you. I’ve got a notion that the old jingly jangly pieces of our former lives or hurts never physically leave, they are waiting to make their presence known and it is our co stent challenge to them ineffectual and round off their sharp corners
I think you might be right Susan.
Maria, you are a poet. A good one.
You know that means a lot coming from you Veronica. Thank you.