Pieces of Us
So much broken glass all over the floor. It is everywhere. Broken reflections of me and you. Now what? Pieces of us all over our memories. To my left, the piece of me saying something, but no sound. To the right, the piece of you reaching, but no hand to grab hold of. And over there, two pieces that fit perfectly, but oddly don't belong together. So much broken glass all over the floor.
Stop! Don't use your hands...cuts upon cuts...that's the result. How then do we gather the pieces? Should we try to arrange them to see the picture that unfolds? Do we just leave the pieces there and step over them? Must we care enough to make sure future memories can't be broken? So much broken glass all over the floor.
Too much broken glass...it is everywhere. Two broken people, seeking meaning, life, love among all this broken glass. Two broken people loving each other the best way they know how among all this broken glass. These are the pieces of "us."
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