“…you cannot truly love another until you know how to love yourself.”
shards.
one. two. three.
plucking, picking
like flowers withered in the middle of a baking summer a decade ago though. i love her.
i breezed through it
like the east wind; learned of wabi-sabi pottery my vitreous face and body.
i learned to weave lacquer in my skin play with broken chords in an opera and smile because i love her.
there’s this silence in the opera house because the audience want more but i can’t give perfect notes. besides
the chords aren’t broken eyes are and thoughts break
oneself
it’s similar to ceramics. leave her alone, i love her.
i stare at the mirror, at who i used to be; touching places the human eyes refuse to see smiling at how i’ve fallen
for a special clay pot
before
after
forever.
my aesthetic self.
Wow this piece is wonderful
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Thank you so much
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I sort of get the meaning of to poem now. It’s a beautiful piece. Well done
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Thanks a lot ๐
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