A Spiderweb Crack

Never used china

Only for show

So how could you

Ever really know

About that crack

Right in its core?

Or all that dust collecting underneath

That tiny perfect teacup sitting atop

That tiny perfect plate

With tiny perfect hand paintings

Woven delicately and perfectly

between

the imperfect spaces

of that spiderweb crack?

Spreading from within

like a cancer

growing in that unseen dark

That perfect little plate and its

Perfect little mate

Are two broken pieces

Of a set otherwise ornate

Hiding their shame

Behind closed doors

Fooling the others into thinking

They too belong, right there

In a cabinet full of shiny things

(mistaken for love)

Like beauty and pride

Quietly embarrassed of the other

Of what’s woven delicately and perfectly

between

their shared imperfect spaces

of that spiderweb crack

Quietly needing the other

To conceal their scars

In that darkness

woven delicately and perfectly

between

their imperfect spaces

of their spiderweb crack

(Or something a lot more like love)