Fragmented Pieces

My thoughts now gliding on the surface,
he looks at me inquisitively,
guessing what he cannot see or better yet feel.
Broken glass reflects our love.
Our Destiny.
Scared, shattered, scared again...broken.
A high risk when touched yet a dangerous presence when left alone.
Dangerous, like our love.
Broken, like glass.
Shattered upon the floor.
I touch and try to remove it and I bleed.
I leave it alone, forget its there, touch it, and bleed.
Still looking at me inquisitively.
I say: "that's our love."
Dangerous either way.
Like glass.
Shattered.
Scared.
Broken...like the pieces on the floor.