The vessel

Some folk have a brimful cup; it runneth over.
Others have a cup half full
or part-way drained.

Mine, though, is completely barren
not a single drop dwells at the bottom —
and tonight the dusky glass is crazed.

I hope it breaks
and very soon!
so I can slash and slice myself with the shards:

divorce the parts of me
which cannot reconcile
across a permanent and bloody divide.