one small david-sized rock

in that raw spot between two goliath-sized eyes

and defenses splinter

spider webs cricking and cracking across the pane

one deafening shatter

an impact, like a toppled bucket of nails

jagged shards exploding over the carefully constructed landscape

tender universes of shame

broken edges, barbed corners

each uniquely able to draw blood

every piece screams its own scream:

I hurt him!

Not good enough!

Unworthy!

What a disappointment, what a mess, what a fool you’ve been!

the blood pools around the fragments now, a ruby puddle of pain

Alone!

Broken!

Disgusting! Annoying!

Not what you were supposed to be!

You’ll never find love!

You don’t matter…

the sun sets, the stars rise

and the wounds that don’t heal

clot

rubicund, then incarnadine, then crimson

then the sepia crust of scabs

that will eventually pinken

and heal

gentle scars remain

vulnerable to another hit, another day