Flower Constructions by Anne Ten Donkelaar
Here you are – always holding out for that one hope that he was wrong. That someday, someone would knock in your door and see through your cracks and decide that these things you hide within yourself doesn’t matter. They won’t treat you like an abandoned porcelain doll; they won’t tape your imperfections and repaint over your scars. They’d take you in as a whole. You’ll realize that sometimes, people just accept. No hesitations, no questions asked.
And you’ll love them, dear god, you’ll really love them. You’ll feel complete. You’d bring them inside the world of the broken, show them that things could be beautiful even if they are smashed into pieces. You’d fall around them thinking that there is someone out there who finally understands.
But love is not just about understanding someone completely, love doesn’t quite end in acceptance. And you’ll learn this, one morning, when you stretch out your arm in your sheets and all you could reach is an empty space. You’d get up and walk around your apartment, bare feet on the cold floor and you’d find everything is the same as before – all cracked, broken, and empty.
Aftermath: He once told you, you remind him of broken glass: the way you would try to cut silences and reflect off blinking lights and hazard signs. Then you wondered since when have you been a car accident, the way people threaded around your barriers and decided you were a road too dark and too broken to travel in. This was when you’ll finally learn that sometimes, whether or not we’re whole, people just leave.
No hesitations, no questions asked.
Maybe some things aren’t just meant to last.