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.
