By Martina Kontos



[ uh-pok-uh-pee ]


loss or omission of the last letter, syllable, or part of a word.


Allow me to introduce my—


pain, that little god that tells me I’m no—


better off being a sparkle than a flame, all—


knowing of how to blister but not to heal. Back—


when I was a child, I sparkled like glitter, mess—


was no barrier to joy, neither did bitterness take hold. But fight—


for nothing, surrender to conquer—


this false maxim has tainted my mind as I’ve grown. Now I’m the wrestle—


and the defeat, vacillating between piteous—


obeyance to this normality or rebelling to thrive. Insidiously, pain—


has made me roast myself to keep alive. But slow—


steps toward healing will make me glitter again, I suppose. Un—


loosening my past is a game pain has created to be cruel; throw—


away the matches, a hard command to follow through. Al—


though reclaiming my life will sting more than servility, I’ll cling to one hated truth:


glitter gets into all the cracks where darkness rules.

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