Scorn Damage

One thieving shove,
One cruel, shocking push
Of your utter scorn
That’s all it took.

The otherwise steady vase
Of bright ideas
Tumbled down
And smashed.
As if in slow motion
Before my very eyes.

Shattered fragments
Of my self-worth
Strewn across the floor.
Disconnected and broken.
My only choice
To pick up those pieces.
And gently lay them
Back down again.
Let them rest in the dark earth
Of disappointment and hurt.
To be absorbed over time.

One thieving shove,
One calculated jolt
Of your devastating unkindness.
That’s all it took.