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A Broken Mirror

I found a mirror in his drawer. It was a round mirror with a very antique design. A very spectacular mirror indeed. I imagined him being inspired from mirror and writing timeless poetry which had been published in many reputed journals. And there was a paper under paperweight. It was a poem. But as I finished reading it, I was blank. It was about me - his wife. Or perhaps, he never imagined me his wife. The poem was was very piercing. I couldn't believe it was on me.

That moment was poetic. I broke his mirror. So that he would know wounds are real, not mere words.

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