I shatter,
like a broken glass
knocked off a table by a careless hand,
like a pretty vase
toppled over by the wind,
so be careful with me.
After each day
I put my pieces to bed,
try to get comfortable,
and set an alarm for the morning,
somehow.
I wake up early,
put myself back together again,
shaky, unsure.
I start like a jigsaw puzzle,
on the outside and work my way in,
So that if I don’t finish before I go,
I can keep my unfinished insides hidden;
no one will have to know.

I shatter again in storms.