Shards

I stare at these cracks

Run my fingers over their knife edges

Stinging my fingertips with blood

I pick at them until a tender shard

Falls

Shatters on the black tile

A beautiful lie of shimmering promises

I stare at this mess

That I created with my hands

And slowly begin to gather the pieces

And build,

Mould the cruel shards into

A soft heart

That thrums with my breath.