The glass had shattered on the floor and who was to blame - was it me or was it you? We managed to strip each other bare with all our flaws covering every inch of our bodies. We managed to find the hatred buried deep within us and nutured its growth each time we glanced at one another. The glass you placed at the very top of the shelf slowly made its way down to the bottom shelf where it became vulnerable. We managed to rip each other apart and tear our connection into pieces in a matter of a days compared to the months of us loving and caring for one another. It was not me nor was it you that broke the glass, but it was the both of us. You picked up your pieces and I picked up mine - the broken glasses pricked our fingers and it cut the palm of our hands, but that was the price to pay wasn’t it? Unable to surpass an obstacle, we must pick up our broken pieces, work twice as hard to put it back together, and in the process of it all, move on.