(glass-half-full)

(glass-half-full)

i'm not a glass-half-full kind of person

i'm a vessel that's been dropped

by an oblivious grip

shattered into one hundred pieces

jarring and jagged fragments

broken bits with curves

a haunting constellation upon the ground

and despite my fragmented state

each broken piece holds as much as it can.

that's its job, right?

even the tiniest granules shoulder a droplet or two of liquid courage or perseverance or-

is it pain? is it fear?

whatever it is, it is heavy and bitter

i'm not a glass-half-full kind of person

i'm a broken glass full of trauma

it is all-consuming

it is complex

a poison i wish not to carry

but do i have a choice?

try as i might to scrub and cleanse and rid it from every broken shard

trauma stains.

abhorrent impressions scratched into every piece of me

to ensure i never forget

i do not wish to be a glass-half-full kind of person

but i hope in time

i'll find the adhesives i need to become whole again

not like i was before - impossible

but a mended version

a mosaic of me

i hope in time

my sharp edges will soften

it's not like i never want to be held again

i hope in time

i will make room to hold something new

something more than trauma

i hope to hold healing too

and trust and peace and joy and love

i hope to be overflowing with love

maybe i am a glass-half-full kind of person

or maybe someday i could be

after all, i’m afraid i’m starting to feel

half-full of hope

@paige.thepoet