I feel as though
The whole we once
Thought we were
Has been shattered,
Yet still tethered together with invisible tape.
Over time the shattered shards
Have been slipping
Plink, plink,
One by one into the
Shadowy darkness.
Even though our once wholesome whole
is quietly crumbling,
It resembles its shape,
Shuddering silently every time
Another shard slips.
Not everyone can sense the split second
A shard slips,
But those who can
Weep heartbreakingly beautiful tears,
Shaken by the passing possibility.
We probably can’t repair it.
We could maybe put our whole
back together again,
but nobody seems to be
The kind of glue
Who can.