Glass splinters. A hundred pieces, sharp shards and lethal motes,
Shrapnel sticking in the vulnerable skin and pricking the vessels.
Rain runs down windows. Pooling, flooding, ponding,
Creating bog where once ground was firm.
Broken hearts shatter, softness torn by unseen glass,
An explosion within the shell of ribs. No protection now.
Running, she stops, doubling over as the pain
Blasts through her body. Mind breaks, tears flow
Expressing sorrow where once was joy, laughter, love.
Everything now an effort. Work might distract – doesn’t –
Children bring laughter but questions and memories –
Bed is a soft lingering haven but for the recollection of adoration
Lying there imprinted on the pillow.
Unfinished, a love not given the chance to become mundane
Creates endless heart, mind and soul ache where once was joy.
You learn to live with it. But shattered.
runningin3time 