Broken peices?

human too broken?
like the light bulb..removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry
the empty box of chocolate  cookies, you find secretly hid by you, not to be found at the bottom of the kitchen garbage, box betrayal, by the tipped box lid sided peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming, what did I do to deserve this degrading
like my favourite shirt now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended, you know it but still pretend not to see, for you once loved that guise that so heightened the high tender, making your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
from the pleasured admiration, rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life..
so mean revert to the poseur question this is how…
remove the human from fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the cracking of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact, even if you do,
no repair service you want to be found, to see it nowhere,
is it even anywhere advertised?
the body presumed intact is secretly under a tactile coverlet
you keep it in the closet closed, in the back, deep hid, where
when it screams why, it can be safe ignored,
and ‘betrayed’ not
in your private dictionary, parental controls activated by you to
save the child
so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep well, well enough hid, the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped and neither cares

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