My soul a shattered mirror,
The shards piercing into your skin—
Almost willingly.

The glass kissing your neck like
A cold whisper,
Tracing a map over your collarbone
With trails of hot sweat and skin.

Your mouth a broken replica of mine,
The pieces scattered across our kitchen floor,
The tiles shining with the remains of our smiles.  

Your warm breath fogging up
Against your mirrored image,
Whispering words of love
To my broken self.

And as you gather my remnants,
I realize that it will always be your hands
That will piece me back together,
And it will always be your love
That heals my soul.