The odorous stench of wilted roses,
torn petal from lifeless petal, fills the room as
a splintered vase, not inches away, rests in peace.
In pieces.

The lustrous charm bracelet crashes to the floor,
dulled to a shimmer by the darkness that has engulfed my world.
Resting next to it lays a box of chocolates.
Unopened.

Through a torrent of tears, I look down.
Down at the half heart pendant dangling from my neck that
weighs me down, crushing me in search of
the other half.

But the other half is gone.
The chocolates have melted.
The bracelet is cracked.
The roses are long dead.

And now it is nothing but a memory.
A memory of what could have been.
A memory that has become
a Shattered Dream.