tessellate

how the pieces fit. so perfect. all the little shapes coming together. all the delicate shards swept up and put back in place. "good as new"

but the lines are there, however fine, they are there.
and they are screaming.

about the injustice they were created from.
they won't let you forget how it felt to be a shattered form of what once was.

as though forgetting was possible.

and when i see the lines in the mirror, i remember.
and when the cold water flows over it, i feel it find those niches.
the wind fights through the smallest of spaces.
time never lets you forget.

and if the appearance plagues you, just mend it.
you can sew it back together. super glue it.
whatever you need to do to try and remember what it felt like before hand.

you come to terms with it. and i'm happy if you do.

but i can't help but feel it will never be seamless again. and that makes me feel greater than i ever did before. proof of staving off adversity. demonstrating that this is still mine to keep. My chance is still out there, because I have not given up.