Shards

Shards

 

I look in the mirror and see shards of myself

I wonder if this is what I will look like when I am dead

Or if this is what death looks like

What honor is there in finding out?

I don’t know if I should conduct myself any differently

It is never safe to assume

But how will I ever know?

I cannot function within these fragments

So many things I wonder

Like why has the pain not stopped?

Do my fragments have value as a mosaic?

Like stained-glass I could solder them back together

Using blood and words to fill in the cracks

Surely it has been an eternity since I first saw my reflection

My eerie eyes haunt me while evading

This then, is the sum of my life

An accumulation of years and fears and tears

All things that ricochet and echo and reverberate

I am even smaller than I had thought

Brilliantly aware of the intricacies of life and death

Afraid of the implications of either

Can I just stay here, locked within the tinted glass?

I feel the pull of darkness

The promises of numbness and unknowing

But also I feel the glow of light

With its rumors of love and rain

Maybe the shards are merely an illusion

Waiting to slice out pieces of life if that is what I choose

I wrap my arms around me and I bleed

Too much meaning in those crimson lines