i broke one of my vases the other day.
it was rather simple in design, modest.
its shape unassuming, its colours muted.
but it broke me just the same
to watch it shatter into a million tiny pieces.

as i knelt beside the scattered fragments,
my hands trembling to gather them,
i realize how alike i was to the vase;
how little i must have mattered to you.

when you broke me into pieces,
a nonchalant sigh escaped your lips,
hardly fazed by the accident.
you hummed a tune under your breath,
your mind already drifting to other matters.

why would you dwell about something easily replaced and forgotten?

why would you dwell about me?