“cracks”

This poem was originally published on The Pittsburgher’s predecessor, The Dog Door Cultural.

crack

another piece

another splinter

trembling breath, I breathe

careful, she’s fragile

no

sudden

movements

echoes

quakes

there is an ocean in her eyes

a volcano where her heart should be

Crack

it’s breaking

she’s breaking

ravines widen

pulsing starts

a tornado in her head

oceans pour out

CRacK

silence

a pause

a shudder

C

R

A

C

K

volcanoes explode

unbearable fire

blistering heat

crawls out of the cracks

fills every crevice

the ocean’s salty water

mixes with untouchable lava

clashing, they meet

and after hours of crashing

fighting

burning

pain

when the steam has left

all that remains

are the cold

rigid

charred splinters

of a once living

breathing

beating

heart

in this new rocky state

she’s been reborn to feel

nothing. ▲

Bailey Caughey is an undergraduate at the University of Edinburgh majoring in English and Scottish Literature. Her poetry focuses on pain, internalized struggles, and reconciliation.