pretty little bracelet;

pretty little bracelet
resting beautifully on a thin wrist
sparkling in the limelight
exactly where it should be.

but a little too small it became
a little too tight it hugged the skin
indentations imprinted
as if to mark its territory.

so a grip and a pull
to free oneself
like a bird in a gilded cage
but still a prisoner
no matter how pretty the shackles.

and then the final spring
a burst of beads flying
clattering to the marble ground
and running off in all directions
every harsh memory fading away.

no more is the wrist captive
no more can that beautiful disguise control
free, free, free
just as we always should have been.

No comments:

Post a Comment