Patch Job
Pain.
It finds every patch job,
every place I spackled smooth and called finished.
It presses until the cover story buckles,
then caves.
It drags me under
into layers I’ve wallpapered over for years.
It remakes my outline,
packs heartache into the chest,
sets the missing parts back in my hands,
and I feel how much of me went missing.
It strips the wall back to what’s actually there,
and now I have to live with the truth
of the structure.
(2017, © Julia Delaney)
Be Alive 🌱
Love ❤️, Julia
Rhyme & Reason
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