Starlit Reveries and Flares | P O E T R Y

The Mirror That Shattered Back

You tried to fix me—
Bold of you, really,
to take a hammer and glue
to a mirror that never wanted mending.

But I watched you,
watched you bleed for someone else's cracks,
giving pieces of yourself,
as if I was missing something worth replacing.

Behold the revelation:
I wasn't broken; I was waiting—
for someone to stop staring
and start seeing.
But you mistook reflection for reality,
thought you could rewrite history
by standing in the wreckage of someone else's love.

Yet, I urge you to hear—
what you saw was never your own shadow.
I don't belong to the past,
and I won't wear the chains of someone else's ghost.

You didn't complete me.
Hell, you've just triggered a long-lost moment
that I don't need saving.
Because mirrors don't ask for your heart;
they just show you what you're afraid to see.

And if you thought my cracks were for you to fill—
well, maybe it's time you let go of that illusion.
I never needed a fixer,
just someone who'd watch me shatter,
and laugh as I put myself back together.

~ ~ ~

Note from the Poet: To deal with a mirror, you don't complete it—you let it reflect your strength, even in the brokenness.