Shattered Trust

My mother told me once, that trust is very much like glass. When broken, you can piece back the fragments together, but the cracks will be visible. I didn’t believe her then, until it happened to me.
I couldn’t say it was unexpected. I already heard the clicking of the glass from a far, like the sound of a ticking bomb waiting to happen. The breaking though, was silent, then the sound of footsteps on shattered glass, barefoot, bleeding.
The betrayal followed me like a shadow, everywhere I go I see the cracks, taunting me. My hands and feet were decorated with wounds from trying to put the pieces back to how they were, wounds that never seemed to heal no matter how much time has passed, no matter how many bandaids I used.
I wish my mother also told me how and when to stop trying.

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Shattered Trust

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