Before it cracked, I had a
perfect view, into the liquid
silence.

Identical as to when I look in
the mirror, same one as you
used before it was shattered.

There is a coldness here now,
even when diffused by steam
coming off my shaving water.

A web of fractures from the
centre, where your perfume
bottle hit. Our history in frame.

My souvenir to a relationship
that turned frosty, but perhaps,
one day, there will be a thaw ?