03 The Love Issue | The Span of Human Emotion · 3 of 12
I’ve held on to my anger far too long:it’s smudged with fingerprints and oily spots,the edge, once sharp, has dulled by overuse,my hands are blistered and dripping with sweat,I’ve rubbed it on my shirt, but it’s still hardto keep a grip on it and yet I do,although the handle broke off years ago.
I used to have a fragile ego too,but dropped it down the stairs and shattered itit wasn’t worth as much as I once thought,just green faience, not fancy porcelain.I keep some shards of it, but am not sure,why I’ve not thrown it all away by now.They’re in a box beside my rosy shades.
I keep it with my baggage, close besidehuge steamer trunks of losses and regrets,of bitter pills and hot, salty remarks,shoved up against my bolted closet doorthat rattles from the monsters trapped inside. I also hang my shirt there, where I’ve pinnedmy tender heart upon its tattered sleeve.