two ragged shards of glass

struck through canvas so fragile

a painting full of beautiful colours

in its centre a black hole, a portal

---

upon a blood-spattered floor

a snow-globe of dreams lays beside

one happy, healthy soul long lost

---

two knife-shaped splinters nowhere

to be found, unlike the ghost haunting

the scene relentlessly, achingly

still searching the scene for answers

---

finding only extra questions

in the thick, dense layers of a room

never so searched than these times

---

trying to run, heal, become alive again

but forever haunting the crime scene

to their own murder

---

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