Breaking Stuff at the Smash Shackbypushkine©
I want a drink, and then a plate or vase
Or heart to hurl against their steel back wall.
What I want is shards, the thin ones that cut
When you walk over them, Miranda. Cut
The way you cut me out, like an old vase
Of unbecoming form. I was a wall,
Bricks laid with affection, but yet a wall
Laid in the way of your ambition. Cut
Through me, baby—I'm your brittle glass vase,
Your shattered vase, your broken wall. Yeah. Cut.
Survivor Poetry Contest
Form Q (Tritina)