All that was left of you was a broken glass.
A broken glass that lay spread out all over the dark wooden floor, shattered beyond repair. You were gone now, and you weren’t ever coming back. The last memories of you were your cries of utter disdain, lines and lines of hatred and disgust that you spat out at me will forever be stained into my mind. This is how I’ll remember you, distraught and angry. Not the pretty girl I met standing outside a bar on New Year’s Eve, being auctioned off by her friends for a New Year’s kiss. Not the caring animal lover who put bowls of food out for the neighbourhood cats and dogs who weren’t fed often enough. Not the strong woman who stood up for what she believed in and that was proud of everything she had done from running a successful protest to winning a small argument with well thought and proven points. I could’ve only hoped that things would run smoothly, my visions had given me false hope as I imagined after a moment you'd take my hand in yours and tell me that everything would be fine. That you’re fine; that we would work something out.
Time passes gradually, I stand still in the same position as I were 5 minutes ago staring blankly at the sheet of broken glass covering the floor. You burst through the door as the bright and happy person I’ve always known you to be, constantly filled to the rim with positivity. I sit down in the lounge, and ask you to join me. “Why do you sound so serious?” you ask me, walking into the kitchen. A moment later you come back with a cup in your hand. Anxiously, you ask me why I’m so tense, and why I called you here. Your head tilts the slightest to the right and I can’t help but to look down at my feet. Apologies spill out of my mouth and I’m unable to find the right words to explain everything I feel. Sipping, you pat my shoulder and attempt to console me. But if you had've known 1 minute prior what I was about to tell you, you wouldn’t touch me at all.
I told you exactly what you didn’t want to hear. All the wrong words, said in all the wrong tones. But at least my truth was out. Although I was afraid to look you in the eye at that moment, I did so for a second. They were wide and glistening with tears about to spill over your waterline. I looked at the rest of you. Your mouth hung agape and a few squeaks come out, as if you had been mute all your life and you were trying to speak for the first time. Your complexion has turned from tan to completely white, sitting straight up and stiff you hadn't moved or said anything for a minute. I watch as you grip your now empty glass tighter, and quicker than I could keep up with you shot out of the seat and heaved it at the ground. I didn’t hear the chatter of the glass breaking, but I certainly heard you. Every scream and every cuss was a piece of your heart breaking apart, expressing pure abhorrence in every move you made. I don’t fight back; I let you hit me all you want. But you’re fed up with my lack of response so you leave; slamming the door with the little power you have left.
5 minutes ago you were a full glass, gleaming beautifully. I watched your world come down and shatter before my eyes, and now you’re the broken glass on my dark wooden floor, shattered beyond repair.
