A Question


The glass has broken,
shattered into a million pieces.
The blood drips slowly down,
red with pain, warm as the sun.
A million tiny pieces on the ground
that can never be put back together again.
The glass was so clear, crystal clear,
transparent as a mirror that doesn't lie
but reflects the image
that is set before it.
It showed exactly what was there,
beautiful days, love filled nights
and meals at the dinner table.
But now blood stains the clothes
and minute pieces of glass
are shattered on the ground,
arrayed like diamonds.
The pain is unbearable
as the blood now has a constant flow,
a home outside itself, cold and desolate
but the question remains,
"How can you mend a broken heart?"

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