The Art

Gold drips from my fingertips searching for cracks. 

I am kintsugi. 

Scars across a mastectomied chest that tell my story. 

I am kintsugi

Left for dead in an unknown parking lot. Gutted but still breathing. 

I am kintsugi

Broken beyond repair. Still held together and more beautiful than before. 

I am kintsugi. 

NaPoWriMo 2026 – Day 8 Prompt:  In your poem for today, use a simple phrase repeatedly, and then make statements that invert or contradict that phrase.