He tells me that he loves me and I don't know if he's talking to me. The words have all but drifted from my ears. Small. Barely audible. Not even the actual word itself.

Did I hear it right? No. I must have imagined it.

No man could ever love broken pieces of glass held weakly together by glue and desperation. The already-falling apart vase is spiky, ugly, and huge caution signs have been scattered all around her-- making the general public aware of the consequences if they dare cross.

Once every few days the vase would contemplate as to how her state came to be. Someone once held her beautiful, transparent, and flawless vase and made ber feel things she's never felt before. Her parents never approved of their relationship but the vase went behind her mother's back for she believed that the man had loved her.

A few weeks passed and fights erupt causing small cracks on her flawless vase body. Then one day, she sees that her love had betrayed her with another. Because of this, she had finally broken.

Scattered all throughout the wooden floor.

Broken forever.
© vee_v