For a moment, I imagined
you were made of mirrors
and I threw you across the room
so I could watch you break.

There was something romantic
about seeing you in pieces,
seeing the kind of mess
you could make,
picking through the shards
to maybe find
what you were hiding
all that time.

Finally, I would see you
reflected in a different light,
I would see tight spaces
where there used to be glass
and sharp corners
where there used to be shadow,

and maybe all the colours
would stay the same
but at least
I would have stopped
from spinning.

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