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“There are wounds that– instead of opening our skin– open our eyes.”
– Pablo Neruda
![](https://savingtess.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/lost_love_j5dgpk.jpg?w=667)
See me through this broken glass
Small fragile hands, unable to grasp
Together, we walked down the crooked and beaten path.
I wait now, eyes open.. Unable to grasp!
Our bare feet once ran freely.
We felt nothing as we walked upon this broken glass.
Yet one small day, no more is our reflection!
I selfishly chose not to see.. the growing imperfections
A borrowed face, lips lying,
What is it to feel that which threatens you?
Does this not astound you?!
The battles we wore proudly. Yet never won.
Lines, you wrote, spoke loudly
The day drifts slowly into the setting sun
Do you still see me through the broken glass?
The spindle turns loudly!
The fine sand turns slowly
Ageing lines & tempered glass.
Pride falls heavy, blinded. I did not see.
With swollen eyes, yours always shielded me
Too late. Aged fate.
Why doth your love now elude me?
I reach for which now I envy
Fragile hands ask: “What lies left?”
“Nothing,” it replied, played in a note off key.
Hands now old, finally, do they ask?
If you still see me through this broken glass.
Dedicated to my one and true