Question

Mending Glass

A heart once whole, now cracked and worn,
Its edges sharp, its fabric torn,
A silent cry, a whispered ache,
From love once real, now past the break.

It shattered not in sudden fall,
But piece by piece, a quiet crawl—
A word unsaid, a door left closed,
A touch withdrawn, a thorn that grows.

The pain runs deep, like rivers do
That carve through stone when passing through.
And yet, the flow—though cold and black—
Begins the path of coming back.

You gather shards with trembling hands,
Not knowing where each piece now stands.
But still, you try—with thread and gold—
To make it new, though not as bold.

With every stitch, a lesson sewn,
In every crack, a truth you've known:
That love, though lost, leaves room for more—
A gentler hand, an open door.

The scars will show, but let them gleam,
Like stars that shine through midnight's dream.
For hearts once broken, pieced with grace,
Can hold far more than empty space.

So let it heal, let time be kind,
And trust the strength that you will find.
For what was torn can still be true—
A heart rebuilt... is born anew.