I was a cracked mirror
that Death punched until
the glass shattered
into a collection of fragments
which a lover cradled in his hands
until the sharp shards of who
the glass had become
cut him so deeply
that he dropped it.
Those shards lay there lonely,
afraid to let anyone else close,
but the Glassmaker reappeared.
He began to smooth the edges and
beautify what was broken.
Now one day, the Glassmaker will finish by making those shards
not only beautiful,
but whole.