Glass-heart girl

It looks like she’s sleeping, smiling
in dreams built from the summers
we spent by the sea.

I thought she’d been cured
by my giving and caring…
… but a glass-heart like hers
can never be mended…
… or duct-taped…
… waiting for fault-lines to open
and break her apart.

Now curled like a kitten —
she’s wax-pale and stiff,
not in the orange of visiting hours,
she’s free from the reeking of prison
but stuck in her arm
the syringe
she claimed she had tossed…

… and later I learned of the cause
at the hands of her uncle.

After reading the entry for Rochelle and her comment on rhyming on orange I realized that I had to bring in a syringe which is at least a half-rhyme to orange. I will try to return comments latest on Sunday. Time is flying and lots of things to do at work.

Friday fictioneers is a challenge to write a story in any form you like as long as you let the picture inspire you and you use 100 words. Rochelle keeps us together and sets the example with her own writing.

What is a Wednesday without a little Friday?

January 16, 2019

39 responses to “Glass-heart girl

  1. A sad poem, Björn. I had to go and read Rochelle’s piece since you discussed a connection. Very interesting to see the play on the piece she struggled to write.

  2. Wonderful – you have justified the prompt, the title goes so well and so does the accompanying song. I loved the second stanza – where you have compared features of glass with her broken heart

  3. Fantastic piece. Excellent line breaks.

    These are my faves:

    “Now curled like a kitten —
    she’s wax-pale and stiff”

    “the syringe
    she claimed she had tossed…
    … and later I learned of the cause
    at the hands of her uncle”

    I presume the implication is that he molested her, which led to the drug abuse. Or he could have just straight-up gotten her started.

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