
As I pack up my
Life (to leave behind
the supposed "comfort"
of this rut I insisted on
furnishing) I scratch out
old labels on my secondhand
Boxes (secondhand clothing,
secondhand furniture,
secondhand existence)
So many are formerly marked
'FRAGILE'…
But almost nothing I own is
Fragile–
Not even my heart,
since it's been
pulled apart and
Taped together so many
Times, reinforced with
Impassive padding, cushioned
With apathy, protected by
Walls built piece by piece
by years of tears that
Encrusted once-sensitive
Eyes.
I have become
Invulnerable to the world's
Woes, silent and resigned
To never let anyone in
Ever again.
I pack the knicks and the knacks
And the notes I am
Keeping for no particular
Reason aside from nostalgia
And to remind myself
Of the times I made
Mistakes, allowed access to
parts of me
That could
Break.
No,
I'm
not
'fragile'
Yet…
(but maybe,
just maybe,
with you
I could be).
About the Creator
Bex Jordan
She/They. Writer. Gardener. Cat-Lover. Nerd. Always looking up at the sky or down at the ground.
Profile photo by Román Anaya.
Instagram: @UmaSabirah
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Comments (4)
Your writing is so captivating!
This was so heartbreaking and relatable. Such a poigant poem. I loved it!
Very good 😌 and very raw
Ohhh my goodness, Bex, this is heartbreakingly hopeful (I feel like that makes sense, but does it?). The metaphor of the tape and the boxes and fragility here are working seamlessly together. To want fragility, to reframe it as something good, is brilliant, and touches the heart SO deeply. Just, immaculate work.