You seemed to be made of glass.
One single touch, and shards of you would fall at my feet.
I remember how you thought you were transparent, fragile mass.
Even your appearance was lonely and obsolete.

I wanted to fix you,
and make you feel whole again.
To hold together your shattered pieces and make them brand new.
Though, I knew you would crack every now and then.

But like old, damaged glass never again to be sought,
You concealed yourself in the corner of a room.
Feeling too unstable to be around people who are not,
Your brittle bones continue to crumble inside your tomb.

When I glance in the mirror, I too, see demolition
I recognize the hollow face as “broken.”
I see the decaying smile due to years of repetition
Of being silent, invisible, unspoken.

I think it’s beautiful that I find you in myself
Oh, how you were decomposing,
How you were experiencing hell.
Now, I find my eyes subconsciously closing.

There are fractured remnants of you that I have found piercing through my own skin,
Any blood that has remained of you has been found in my veins.
Because you realized that in fact, nothing about yourself was shatterproof within.
And now, the only physical residue that I see of you is the reflection of my own pain.

I can feel the blood dripping from my palms to my arms
Because I’ve been carrying fragments of you that I have found in me.
As though enduring through the turbulence of self-harm,
It feels as if I am being washed away at sea.

My being is still lingering around the thought of you.
Wandering around the absent, dim light that used to refract through your eyes.
Wondering if you knew that I am broken, too.
My splintering heart has been translucent to your lies.

Yet under the surface,
I sense every single emotion that used to fulfill your soul.
And now a part of me is pondering if it is ever worth it,
And another fraction of me is wanting to feel whole.

And now, as I stare at the manifestation of you that is me,
I am afraid that I will follow your trail of shattered pieces you have left,
I am terrified that the weight of you will crush me slowly,
I am petrified that the ghost of you will leave me suppressed.

Because I can discern your cries echoing through my ears at night,
I can feel the shivering of your voice when I speak.
I hold in your longing-- that is now mine-- for my hands to shake from left to right
As I am too inhibited and meek.

I can perceive the fear that you used to possess.
The prospects of your vulnerability are scratching at the interior of my lungs,
And it’s killing me, I must confess.
Your agonizing whispers are spoken through my tongue.

But even with your broken remains lying heavy on my shoulders,
I will transform your fragility into competence.
Even with the burden of you, I will regain my composure.
I will alter your doubts into confidence.

Still, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to ignore you.
Because you surround my thoughts like a picture frame.
Because your jagged pieces have scarred me like a tattoo.
Because trying to forget you is like trying to forget my own name.