He's perfect in every way.
Long brown locks caressing his cheeks like a mother caresses her child.
Dark brown eyes, that'll make you lose any sense of time if you stare too much.
The faint blush showing on his face when he talks about the things he loves.
A smile, almost angelic, popping from his lips as he looks her way.
A laughter, oh so sweet, a lullaby to the ears of his lover.
His voice is calm, yet collected as he showers her with pretty lies.
But he is fake.
His facade is crackling
Like the pieces of the mirror
Broken when his fist had shot through.
He's got a temper,
Too quick to act.
He's a narcissist.
Because nothing is his fault,
Because he is perfect.
YOU ARE READING
Shattered glass
Poetry［Highest ranking: #15］"Perhaps 'it wasn't meant to be' was our meant to be" he says as he chugs down yet another drink. She looks at him and rolls her eyes, "I wonder when your organs will give up on you too".
