Monday, February 7, 2011


It wasn’t till I picked you up
that I knew how fragile you were
How cracked you had become
Not until you fell apart in the palm of my hand
Did I know
That I could not hold you
Not until you crumbled through my fingers
Did I know
That it wasn’t even you I was holding
But porcelain
Not until I was cut by your brink
Did I realize
I was not bleeding for you
But because of you
And you
Were no longer able to
No longer able to be
Anything but fragility
Falling apart in the hands
Of those that love you
Not until I saw your smile
Did I know
How far you had fallen
And how far you still had to go
Not until I heard you speak
Did I know
How quiet you had become
And how little you had to say
Not until I saw you cry
Did I see
How little I knew you
Or cared to
Because not until I let you go
Did I see
How many pieces you had become
And how easy it is to stay that way


  1. read it 5 times now - still crying - again deeply touched by your writing, maybe because of my own brokenness, my own fragility - your words burn their way from my skin to my heart and that's what poetry should.. excellent write dustin

  2. this touches a place down deep for me. thank you for sharing it.

  3. Excellent.. but when the pieces are helped together to join, most of the becomes a lot better.. my belief.. I am amazed to read you.. actually the line.. in what you have stated at onestoppoetry.. about your heart not glowing any colours.. it touched me and I reached here.. great work.. keep writing..

    I reached you.. do visit me to bless my 200th post.. here:

  4. amazing words.
    well conveyed message..

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