My Lady Made Of Glass Poem by Michael Brewer

'I'm not broken! I'm fine! ' You smile. Sometimes I wonder if you know you are made of glass, and that I can see right through you.
'Yes, you've told me this more than once, ' I say, slowly working the adhesive around the edge of a small piece.
My hands are covered in scars and bandages, but I still expertly put the piece back in place. All the countless attempts to put back countless pieces have shown me to be patient and move slowly when dealing with such fragile objects.
'Oh, you did it! I'm back to my old self! ' You light up, twirling around with excitement. As you move in circles, I noticed all the missing pieces I was unable to fix. Every time I find you, more pieces go missing.
You stop twirling, and you're smile widens as you walk slowly towards me.
'I appreciate all you have done over the past few weeks, I really do. I really want you to know how grateful I am, but I'm going to head home. It's getting late! '
'Will you come back tomorrow? ' I ask.
'Of course, ' you reply, heading toward the door. You open the door and turn back. 'I promise! ' you say and close the door behind you.
Sometimes I wonder if you know you are made of glass because I can see right through you.
The next day comes, and there's no knock at the door. As my bandages come off and the weeks pass, I wait to hear your voice. You do not come.
Until, one day, I am walking down the street, and I find you shattered into millions of pieces. The sight always pains me to see. I gather the pieces. There are even less pieces before, pieces you will never get back. But, I will do my best. Hopefully, next time you will be more careful, for the world is torture for a lady made of glass in a world where hearts are made of stone.