writing

The Bowl

It shattered. The porcelain bowl lied in several pieces. It was special, and it still was. It couldn’t be destined for the trash, for it was treasured so.

Instead, lovingly, she gathered the pieces, as tears rolled down her face. Bit by bit, she reassembled the bowl, embellishing each vein with gold. When she was done, it became more beautiful than before.

She set it on the mantle, knowing it’s secret, filling it with solid things, from candies to baubles and more. A secret lied at the bottom for no one to ever see.

One day he came in, full of love. He decided to pour it in the bowl. It held for a while, but then the secret was revealed. There was a hole, a piece still missing, at the very bottom.

She had never found it, that missing piece. So despite all of its beauty and restoration, it wasn’t whole.

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