i tried to hand you my broken soul but you took one look at it and turned away

it was a small little thing… gold or was it bronze? a band with diamond dust nothing more. i held it out to you told you of me and my heart my soul. you looked down baseball cap off that day… sneered at its lack of weight expense. i told you of my family my father my ancestors and you snarled anew. i begged with sweet words tinged with deep sorrow… i know it’s not much but it’s everything to me and it’s yours if you’ll have it. you threw it at me told me to keep my trash. it was an heirloom of my father and his family passed down from my great ancestors on to my grandmother who gave it to my grandfather who put it on her hand… to my father who jokingly pulled it out at my mother after pretending to have forgotten it… to me who begged for you in every way i knew then. it was not material but a story passed on for generations and every love smiled and held their hand out for our broken souls… and then i came to you and my broken was too much. but that was me and it was not enough. i spoke love. declared it loudly. you spoke love and walked away reminding me of dreams of pillars and gardens which you said i had left untimely. no matter how often and consistently i observed that he was never mine never would be and never would want that. you shook your head and spoke a single word that shattered me fractured the brokenness in me perhaps beyond repair: ‘so?’

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