The shattered frames of sapphire starlight,
Jagged edges,
Fine lines.
Light breaking,
Crumbling,
Tumbling from your grasp like
The product of moth wings and slow burn.

The corner of your eye twisting
Like a crooked pin,
Distorted,
Unreadable,
Unblinking.
A slight glisten.
Everything going wobbly.
Grizabella would be proud.

Fading lights above,
Below,
Around,
Inside,
Outside
It’s all the same,
It doesn’t matter.
It does.
It always does.

Nothing is straight,
But is it a smile?
A frown?
A combination of the two?
Crooked mouths,
Crooked eyes.
Everything crooked.
Moth wings everywhere.
The smell of skin. Infectious.

Throwing pebbles may not be so romantic.
Fingers twitching,
Zeal flying,
Glass breaking,
Hearts breaking...
Hearts breaking.
Juliet would only know
This broken mirror.

A second explosion of stardust
In a million shades of blue.
A third,
A fourth.
Pebbles flying.
Maybe it’s not so romantic.
Or maybe it is?
Does it matter?
We are all just broken mirrors.