With bone dry eyes she studies
The shattered crystal at her feet
Seeing each tiny fragment
As a lost day in her wasted life.
She never meant to be here,
Expected implosion rather than explosion,
But sometimes things don't go as planned
and tripping through broken glass
is all there is.
A broom she thinks,
But sweeping would be symbolic
and she cannot--
Will not be erased
Falling to her knees,
She bloodies her fingers
in an attempt to place the pieces
but her dreams are too badly broken
and glue only blends with the tears
She doesn't know she's cried.
Copyright © Shelbia Chandler