LITERARY | Cornflower Blue: Vessel of Puncture Innocence

Silver wire that used to wrap the pendant left a mark, rust blooms there now; surfaces no longer as smooth as the other sea-glasses I own. The longer I wear it around my neck, the duller it gets—no longer cornflower blue; tarnishing chains became more prominent by the day—no longer silver. I remember losing it once … or twice, or thrice—I remember losing it along with fragments of who I once was.

I’ve forgotten. I long buried her body in the coves, her heart in the ocean. (said body was an image of punctured innocence, said heart was an image of flawed faith.) How grotesque I carved out her heart and replaced the empty chamber with sand. 

It’s like water, it kept running through me—back to me. There I saw her standing—must’ve been a holy life. I buried it all, and all I needed was to open my mother’s old jewelry box to find my old necklace. 

There is rust in it, 

surface no longer smooth as it once was, 

not as cornflower blue as I remember it. 

Time indeed took a toll 

on how much it’s changed. 

Throw it away—and I lose everything that has shaped me to be here. Throw it away—and I will be free. Throw it away—and I lose the vessel of what I once was. Throw it away, and everything else—better or for worse will vanish with it. Or keep it—then I remain tied to the anchors beneath the ocean that pulls to drown me. Keep it—then I’ll forever be burdened by my nightmares from the past. Keep it—then I’ll spend the rest of my days on Earth with a nagging heart, wondering if it was better that I threw it away. 

A dilemma

…

I threw it.

I gave it back to the ocean—to where it came from—to where I came from. There is so much to lose and nothing to keep with it. Whatever I once was, is long buried in the coves beneath the ocean floor with it. Whatever I once was will never be the unbecoming of what I am now. Whatever I once was, was that necklace; versions of me I’ve forgotten that once existed. I threw it away, and it was the bravest thing I’ve done.