image from freepik.com
poem written for “Broken Heart” poetry contest, Seth Pina, sponsor, February 25, 2026.
You handed me the black Excalibur~ not a sword, but the silence that grew between our sentences, heavy with everything we wouldn’t say. I tried to pull it free, but the hilt was welded to your ribs, and my fingers slipped on the oil of old apologies. What we had was never meant to be~ not like this, not with edges that drew blood when we reached across the bed, not with a scabbard made of unspoken vows. I left it buried in the threshold, where the door couldn’t close, where the light split itself trying to choose a side. Now it rusts in the rain, a monument to the kingdom we never ruled.
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