I see the broken, dead pigeon. His wings flap ineffectually in the breeze as he dangles from his broken foot trapped in the small space on the railing. I gaze at him and wonder if that’s what I’ve become. I have to be broken inside. No one has ever chosen to love me. I have always been alone, even when surrounded by friends and family. I feel stuck, trapped by invisible forces. By fear. By my narrow mind. So many speak of heartbreak but I can only give you hearsay examples. No one has broken my heart. No one has gotten close enough to know me. No one has taken a chance to see me. I laugh and joke and show off my pretty face, but I hide my heart behind flippant responses and sometimes cruel judgements. I am so afraid to let people in, even though fragments of me disappear in solitude.
August 14th prompt – Weeping Willow by @christy_aldridge