Photo Story: Breaking Point
The view is better now, a verdant hillside shattered, not one crimson setting sun but hundreds, the dusty smell of late summer drifting in. And somewhere out there, in the tall grass and scattered stones—freshly turned earth, the shell that remains after the last neuron quit firing, after I finally made him shut up.
Pop.
I should change the glass before his mother comes wondering, hang a curtain, scatter seeds on the bare earth. But I will miss the way the sun scatters through the fractured glass, all his yelling cut to whispers, my breath, and the bright quiet.
Photo credit: Thomas Hawk
Glass
Thrown off his shoulders… crack!
Dishes hurled… crash!
The strained yelling through the door…
Alcohol never sat upon her tongue, yet impacted her so greatly. Every time he walked through the door, her heart would drop to the floor and fracture. The foul smell he brought with him made the room spin. Laying in her dark, cold room she thinks of better times, but he always finds a way to creep in. Everyday she must hold in her emotions, her hurt. She holds it in but her heart takes the strike. It breaks a little every time… Until it shattered.
Brilliant. Melinda! I am so thrilled so see what you’ve been thriving with! Yay!
Cyndee- a voice from the past! I hope this finds you well and thriving too. Thank you 🙂
Goosebumps…
Each word sent down shivers.
Hat’s off!
Thank you so much Joyona!
So good. Love it.
Thanks Elaine!