like a fried egg with pepper and salt sprinkled on top,
or is it right side up:
always a Jack-in-the-box,
a terrifying, never satisfying surprise.
What is life, what does it all mean?
Not everything is delicate,
lace-lined and pretty,
covered in silver sparkling nail polish that shines.
Not everything is graceful.
There’s disaster, death, blood, torture,
pain, redemption, justification, forgiveness,
and messy freedom.
Not everything is true.
There are lies and broken promises,
persuasion and dissuasion,
dirty preludes, grunge, and empty soft-muttered words.
We go through life not really living,
as if life is the inside of a submarine with a slow leak
and the crew doesn’t even know.
Not everything is gentle.
When your heart has been broken once
it never fully heals,
and late at night
when everyone else has been asleep for hours
the quiet demons creep back in
and bludgeon the bruised walls
leaving you wounded
knocking you down
where your entire insides ache.
When it’s dark it’s so hard to look for the light.
But even feeling emptiness – feeling pain –
feeling alone and sad and angry and frustrated –
it’s all better than nothing at all
because it means you still have a heart.