I am tainted
like the dark slush on the streets,
like the lipstick on your lover’s collar,
like the inkblot on your canvass,
distracting all order around me.
I am broken
like your mother’s old vase
like an old seashell
like the wings of a dying bird,
crippling my way around this god-forsaken world.
I am hopeful
like the full moon
like the sun that shines every morning
like the chorus of children playing in the meadows,
dreaming one day that I come clean, fixed, and loved; one day.
— Sarah Montenegro
Sarah is an NYC professional by day, a writer by night. She writes horror and tragic stories, and sometimes, about past lives. Recently, she tried dabbling into poetry. You can email her at firstname.lastname@example.org and you can check out her short stories at sorenlysander.wordpress.com.