Break the Glass
A proselytized teenager is what I see in the mirror
Reflecting on all the innocent flashbacks
of when he did not yet deprive me of love.
I wish to break the glass as he has broken me,
swept me off my feet, recklessly;
I detest looking at myself (I always saw myself with him).
He only ever saw me when the world was blurry,
Pathos-filled glares were all he gave me.
Brackish liquid staining my fresh pillows
(We were married in my head; do I call myself a widow?)
A one-way mirror, one-sided love
I miss you, boy, but my heart
has had enough.
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