Pyrite

And as the light filters through pine needles and time,
Glimmering, precious as ocean treasures
Picked up in love,
I feel a heartstring pull
As if a strum, a wandering note
Plucked from the space inside my ribcage
But maybe it was just the idea we'd loved.
The liquid gold of a new horizon,
The crispness of a new life,
But only those.
Not the slicing of shattered glass
In a picture frame thrown in rage,
Of holes cut into walls
By rigid fists,
Of bruises and brokenness.
And maybe it wasn't the life we loved,
But the idea of it.

And years from now,
Will you see me when you look back?