Necklace
Its almost too cliché
a broken heart shaped necklace
shattered glass in the corner
with a naked wire frame
But I can imagine
cutting myself on it
bleeding life into its cracks
filling it crimson but dripping
over it's splintered rim
A heart given stolen life
only through its broken state
a new beauty from it's pain
perhaps it's cliché is forgivable
who cares if it has been done before?
Glass still cuts just as deep
