Mother of Gardened Glass

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I believe in a broken bottle kind of love
The kind that shatters on impact
The way my father did when he took my mother's heart out of her chest and threw it at a window and gave it back to her with clumps of muscle and fractured glass
It Creates a pattern of moving tides bewitched by a young mother's sobs
War torn chests embedded with shrapnel coated in guise of chain linked chrysanthemums
Why are weeds so beautiful so destructive so vibrantly colored yellow for sun yellow for light yellow for the color of a baby blanket sheltering a newborn from feeling the
plop! plop! plop!
Of its mother's tears as her mouth encases the tulip petal apologies that her husband stems into her
Cultivates a garden inside her body with a fountain of cracked marble surrounding a jaded pulp of muscle mass
She will tell no one of the sea glass that she swallows at night to cut the weeds and flowers from sprouting out her throat
Looking through a broken bottle she'll shrug with an open toothed smile because she is a masterpiece within her destructive love
Vibrations will one day shatter the lodged glass and cut her garden to leaves
And they are beautiful - the weeds - the color of a broken bottle love that shatters that is half full half empty
That cuts what it grows with no trepidation
Color of a mother with tired eyes waiting for a new dawn to break across the unruly vines of a masterpiece created in love
Hypnotized by blossoms like the kind that grow in my granite cut heart of her making



placidfiji whose poetry revived my need to write, if only it could be as beautiful as your work

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