we carry
the beautiful
bitter
broken
pieces
of ourselves
-shaped and weathered
by time
and adorned with lint

like forgotten trinkets
in our pockets

and try as we might
to put them down,
every ugly,broken, part that
we wish we didn’t have
-the ones we can’t
bare to examine,
the ones we see
in our eyes
that cause us
to turn from
the mirror

are just as much
apart of us
as those
shining,glittering moments
that we place on pedestals

and no matter what we do,
or how desperate we are,
we have to live with it