Permission
by Lamaia Eschbacher
i don’t think
i’ve ever been allowed
to break
not really
not fully
not in the way
glass is allowed
to shatter
when it hits the floor
no one tells glass
to be strong
no one tells it
to hold itself together
no one tells it
to forgive
the hand
that threw it
it just breaks
loud
honest
unapologetic
but me
i was taught
to soften the impact
to bend
instead of shatter
to survive
instead of fall apart
get over it
move on
be strong
have thick skin
as if strength
meant
never breaking
as if pain
was something
to outgrow
not something
to feel
so i learned
how to disappear
into distractions
into dreams
into anything
that could carry me
away
from what hurt
i stretched time
put distance
between me
and my wounds
until they felt
smaller
or at least
quieter
and maybe
that’s why
i don’t know
what it feels like
to truly
break
to fall apart
without catching myself
to shatter
without immediately
trying to clean it up
i wonder
if i ever did
what would happen
would i be something
that could be rebuilt
or would i just
stay there
in pieces
sharp
scattered
untouched
like my feelings
have always been
seen
but never
held
and sometimes
i think
maybe breaking
isn’t the end
maybe
it’s the first time
something inside me
finally tells the truth
