The Broken Shell

The Broken Shell

 

 

Being alone is easy.

Being lonely is not.

 

The memories of what used to be and

what could have been pour in and the

what will never be’s cloud the brain

and overcome the heart.

 

Tears fall.

 

So many hidden emotions, hidden by

Time

And necessity.

 

Nobody likes a broken shell.

Only the perfect ones get chosen

Picked up off the beach and placed on a shelf

To be admired for a time.

 

I’ve become a broken shell.

And I linger

With all the other broken bits among the sand.