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Perfect Plate
By TornPieces
The plate is dragged and positioned under my chin by her.
The
clean sound , of what used to be a mound of clay
And,
A clean surface, with tiny vines painted on the edges.
Who would think, how dirty this plate is....
How every day,
its eaten on, possibly dropped....close call.
It is,
the object of rage, on a "too late" dinner....
shattered,
and easily replaced..
I understand you.
How
dirty and how fragile your life is, little plate.
I understand
how each day, you may or may not be broken.
Any minute, by accident,
by purpose....you may die, or live.
You are used, and then washed.....
No one can see your true essence, that under all those pretty vines,
you have tiny lines....
evidence of your survival.
Who can believe you are starved? If you are fed.
Who can believe
you hide bruises? under those beautiful vines.
My bruised
wrists rest next to your clean, shiny posture....
and pieces
of food, hide the evidence on my face...
when I look into, this
vined, glazed,
Perfect plate.
Nobody, could ever
know.
--_--
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Copyright 2012 TornPieces
Comments on "Perfect Plate"
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-
A former member wrote:
I really enjoyed this, you brought so much life into to a normally thought lifeless object. I really felt you and followed well with the way you write. Great job.
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On Monday, June 25, 2012, FadedBlues
(2168)
wrote:
...mournful comparison, the fragile plate, the porcelain heart of a child...
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On Monday, June 25, 2012, dwells
(4284) wrote:
Quite the metaphor, had me going in the beginning thinking decapitation maybe (whew!) Cheers and well done.
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On Monday, June 25, 2012, Invisible Girl
(134) wrote:
Beautifully worded. Made me feel emotion.
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