Do not touch
The shards of glass
That lay fallen
Where the bottle broke;
No matter how pretty they are,
Or how nicely they catch the sun,
And no matter that they gleam like stars,
Because the edges are sharp,
And could cut your fingers,
And leave you so brilliantly broken;

And yet I still found you
Crouched beside glass like crushed diamonds
With thick beads rolling down your fingertips
Gleaming impossibly red like rubies
On crystal edges
With no regrets or regards
And I can't say I blame you.