You stepped through them,
Like a coal walker.
Feeling nothing beneath your feet.
You closed the door and left.
Said you didn’t have a dustpan.
The glue that put me back together was weak.
I shattered a hundred more times until,
I found balm to not only rebuild;
But to heal.
Few cracks remain, though some spots are fragile.
I sit now on the shelf,
I can bear the weight of a thousand loves again.
I will never shatter again.