Pieces of You

In fury I threw things. My hands
grasped for anything within reach.
A hairbrush. My perfume. The antique
hand mirror my mother gave me. The shock
of destroying something so treasured
quelled my anger quickly. The shards
of reflective glass glittered
on the floor. Regret comes quickly.
The guilt is overwhelming. I can't
bear to meet your gaze. I stare
at the floor instead--at a dozen
tiny fragments. Instead of finding
consolation or retreat, I only find
a dozen tiny pieces of you.

I like this one. The more I read it, the more I see different things...

Kinda like a 'create your own ending' book... I see one way the situation transpired, but I see a bunch of different symbols.

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