Breaking Point

The glass slipped—

sharp crack in the quiet kitchen,

shards like teeth scattered over linoleum.

The sound hit something inside me,

a fracture I’d ignored for too long.

Hands trembled, trying to gather

pieces that didn’t fit anymore.

Reflection splintered in the broken edges,

a fractured face staring back,

a promise that never held its shape.

The weight of silence after the snap

was heavier than the shattered glass,

a slow spread of cracks I couldn’t fix,

not with words, not with anything.

I watched the pieces fall,

waiting for the floor to swallow it all,

but some things break

and keep their jagged scars,

sharp and unapologetic.