My heart was chipped,
broken,
a thousand times,
like my favourite porcelain plate,
inherited from my grandmother.
The rosy porcelain
with wavy borders
housed dragons.
They breathed fire when provoked,
and on each occasion,
leaving behind a fingerprint,
A chip.
Each chip,
deep, impressionable,
reminds me of the moments when
I touched my boundaries.
When the serene fragrant
flower of peace
burnt in a torrid flame of rage.
They harboured moments
when my expectations
were shattered,
leaving me
Heart broken.
If you count the chips,
You could count my heart breaks,
which broke at regular
and irregular intervals,
through the tortuous lanes
of Life.
But when I lost you,
my treasured porcelain
broke into a thousand pieces.
I retrieved every shard of my pain,
Collected the droplets of blood and tears
With bleeding hands
and stored them in a
secret chamber of my heart
where they still
bleed in silence
along with my broken heart.
Image courtesy: Pixabay
A postgraduate in Economics, Papia Ghosh (Pal) has always been an avid reader with a penchant for penning down her thoughts and experiences through her poems, short stories and memoir. At present, she is a Senior Instructor at Word Munchers where she is actively involved in nurturing children and adults to pen down their thoughts for future readers.