Something inside of her was broken.
A kite without a string.
A bird without wings.
A heart without a beat.
Something inside of her fractured.
A wishbone.
The foundation of the wishing well.
Her hope.
There were days
when the pain was smooth, still water.
And others when it was a raging
sea, a hurricane of agony.
And she was drowning.
Endlessly drowning, and never dying.
But the waves,
tsunami level waves, ceased for a few seconds.
There were heartbeats when she could breathe
without sinking a little more.
Maybe she didn't need wings.
Maybe she just needed to be able to swim.
The broken pieces never fit together
again, never became wings,
but she put the shards back together
in ways that felt unfamiliar,
and not wrong.
The pieces fit better this time.
A puzzle rearranged into a different picture.
The kite wasn't flying.
There were no birds.
But there was floating,
and swimming,
and hope.
And a beating heart,
unbreakable.