I stand still looking at the floor.
My eyes glued to the tiny shards of glass;
pieces that used to make up my cup;
fragments now splayed across the room.

My feet rooted in place.
I feel the drops of water on my toes;
glass half full, glass half empty,
now spilled all over the ground.

I can’t move; too afraid to step.
The roughness of the broken pieces,
sharpness of the shattered shards,
tantalizingly close to the skin.

The constellation of glass fragments,
glisten and sparkle, dancing with light,
distracting from its jagged danger,
away from the brokenness and loss.

I close my eyes, hold my breath.

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