Glass Memories

Those portraits of you,

framed in fragile memory,

fell from my nightstand.

That picture-perfect smile

torn by shards of glass.

As if to fend off some

nightmarish fiend,

my arm lashed out.

I slept through it all.

 

I tried to tape you back together,

but the endeavor proved futile.

I couldn’t get your smile right.

I tried to sweep away the shards,

but only managed to get them

wedged in my calloused sole.

 

Since you’re not coming back,

I guess the tattered paper

and crimson-stained carpet

will have to suffice.