Who gave you the power to break me?
     To crush me up into little glass shards.
You didn’t know, but I was a fragile package,
     Meant to be handled with care, not dumped on the ground because you were hurrying towards your own finish line with no thought of anything else.
But here I am (my pieces, that is), trying to get taped back together: some glue here, and a patch there.
And still fully offering myself to you.
Hoping that these sharp, glittering pieces will be enough for one more moment.
          Just one.
     Is it too much to ask for a gentle hand to put me back up on the shelf- returned, a little used, but still willing to try again and hope that next time,
          The glue will stick and maybe even heal-
To fully be again.