Breadcrumb #540

SARAH BRIDGINS

A friend told me she envies
how much I love
beautiful things.
I had just bought a pink velvet couch
and was sharing pictures of it
like it was my child.

With every year that passes,
I want children less,
beautiful things more.
A ring adorned with rainbow sapphires,
a leather bag from Florence, 
my face injected with poison
to keep it beautiful forever.

Children are beautiful,
but they are also bombs,
their fragile bodies unstable,
so easily ignited by a falling brick,
a too hot car. Turn around
for a moment and they're gone,
your life, exploded.

I'm not going to risk
that kind of loss.
I'm still digging myself out
from the wreckage
of too many other disasters.
My body can't sustain 
another life, my heart
pumps pink velvet. 

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