Marissa Mullins
File folders clothed them,
alphabetically arranged,
in soft manila suits.
Their stories, each record
of submission, publication
duly noted in colored caps.
They wore published clips
buttoned at the back
like jewelry.
A wardrobe of time,
collected life, whispered secrets,
screamed epiphanies. Gone
in a moment of unintentional
unraveling, a thread caught
on life’s edges —
weak seams pulled apart until
the cloth gave way, the threads
broke
turning into a thousand tears.
composed January 2011
The second read was still delightful, I’m just stopping by to see what new you have posted! Regards!
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Oh lord! This is gut wrenching. I did this to myself a number of years ago, pulled EVERYTHING out and trashed it. It has only been recently that I began again. To see this kind of episode put into words by another, seems even worse.
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That has a sad sound, I understood it as a work of writer gone for some reason, or not approved, nicely collected and saved into folders, but all is left just the dust and tears … Very vivid …
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Small Pieces of Being 
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