I swore I would never be put back together by someone else again.

But when you’ve incurred hundreds of stitches
trying to reconnect your own jagged pieces,
you tell yourself that it’s better this way.
Better to allow someone else to be your adhesive
than to risk shattering completely.

But then she leaves.

Her duct tape grip is ripped from my skin and I am broken again.

I will have to learn how to put myself back together one day.
And so, I reach down and pick up the first piece of glass.

I will bleed forever without her.