Based on a True Story

There is a red smear
at the corner of her shattered mirror
and she can’t remember
if it is lipstick
or blood,
but lately she wouldn’t
be surprised of either option.
Shards of polished glass
half-float, half-fall
to the bathroom tile
that catches it;
it bounces off her foot
from her position
leaning against the back
of the toilet,
sitting on the bathroom floor.
She is surrounded by so much:
the blood drops, still freckling
the floor from the wounds on her hands,
the water from the overflowing sink,
the pieces of mirror
that will never look the same again.
She is reminded of Humpty Dumpty
and smiles through her tears
and thinks to herself,
that no one will be able
to put her back together again
either.

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