A vase was shattered yesterday,

Undone by just your touch.

A careless hand, a sharp command–

You waved me toward the glue.

I searched for bonds that wouldn’t split

Inside our wooden chest.

I pulled a tube, prospect for use

And gave the bond to you.

I gathered the glass within my palms,

Pricking my skin with blood.

You watched, standing, my aching landing;

I broke my hands for you.

I set it aside

And heard you sigh,

“I’ll get to it soon. Tonight.”

Months have passed,

And the glass stays broken.

You have split, unseen.

Yet I still wait

For the cracks to heal

Completely on their own.

The glass tarnishes,

And I with it.

Could I have

Saved us

With glue?

I sit with

The vase,

The quiet grace,

And feel her 

Aching, too.

I want to fix

Her. I want

To heal.

But now,

                      I’m

      Broken,

                      Too.