The Glass is Shattered

The glass is shattered. It’s pieces fall. The loud splintering fills the hall. Its sound is the sound of tears, silent and muffled behind a pillow.

The glass is shattered. It is no more. It is a piece of the world stomped and forgotten. All sense of peace and harmony gone, torn from its forlorn soul. And now here it lies, pieces of its former self. Each shard a painful memory.

The glass is shattered. Inevitably perhaps. Perhaps it is the way of glass to shatter. Perhaps this is the mark they all bear. It is just a glass, you say, and point to your walls decked with the sparkle of a million more. But it was a glass, my glass, and now it lies on the floor, no more.

The glass is shattered. Maybe beyond hope, beyond saving. Maybe this condition is temporary and somehow by some means, these shards will stitch themselves together. Or perhaps be melted into something else, something new.

The glass is shattered. And all is chaos. Perhaps it is for the best. Perhaps I will never know.

For now, it’s just pieces. Pieces of glass.

#Heartbreak #Love