A piece of glass.

Carrying the memory of a vase it belonged to.

Still with sweet roses perfume trapped within.

Stained with his blood since he crushed all the thornes. For her.

Thorns cannot hurt as much as human’s able.

Deformed by pain, a vase can still hold on.

A salty water born within betrayal. Tears kill the roses, cry until you’re broken! For him.

A piece of glass.