The shattered dream
Like glass shards on the floor
In the now frost-kissed room
Devoid of you, so empty, so cold.
I want to pick one of the embers-
remnants of our long-gone fire
Instead, I choose not to slit open
a wound so deep I hear the ocean
roar inside it.
I put my heart on a mantelpiece
With other peculiar objects
to be treasured and to be safe.
One day I will dust it off and string it
as my necklace.
© 2017 Monika Mraovic