I shattered your mirror
and now all that I see
are the broken shards
of my shocked reflection
strewn across the ground.

They're dripping with
sickeningly straight lines
of red tears from closed eyes
that were carved into the steps
of a porcelain temple.

I wrinkle up my nose at the smell
of self pity and hatred and sing
a solemn dance for what's dead.

I crouch to my fours, sharp shards
of refractive souls ripping into my
apologetic palms, pressing.

Sliding off the surfaces,
crimson pools of times past
spread to the soles of my bare feet,
filling in the gaps between my fingers,
ready to devour me like you did so well.

I can taste your blood in my mouth
and it is reminiscent of my own.