Failed Frame

The chair broke beneath me—

snap of wood like a brittle sigh,

screws stripped, corners splintered sharp.

A mess of splinters, tipped and thrown,

a frame meant for rest, but failed instead.

I sat on cracked excuses,

old plans peeling like paint.

I built it slow, with quiet hands,

promises jammed into hollow joints.

Now, it leans, a crooked shrug

of what was never meant to hold me.