a poem about a breakup

The pieces crashed to the floor
But instead of putting them back together
I swept them into a dustpan, and put them in the trash.

It was hard to get every piece on that first go, and once in a while I step on a piece. 
Hard and sharp, my foot bleeds.

I curse and put the shard into the trash. 
I bandage my feet and step carefully around the floor to avoid stepping on any other pieces.

Sometimes I go days without stepping on any shards. 

But that became exhausting, tip toeing around, avoiding the broken. Plus the bandages were becoming soggy and suffocating.

I peeled off the bandages and began to step. slowly at first. becoming less afraid if I stepped on a piece from time to time.

What’s a little blood? Anyhow, my heels have always been cracked.