(The style of poetry is called a villanelle. It’s a 19 versed poem, with an alternating rhyme scheme.)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Silence shatters like a porcelain cup,

Secrets spilled and soaked into our souls,

Broken hearts bled, as tired eyes shed tears of sorrow.

It was a night like any other when it all began to stir up,

Though first had I believed the notion laughable and droll,

Silence shatters like a porcelain cup.

I laughed and forgot, thinking not to count the facts brought up,

Or rather… I was afraid. That in our perfect world the truth would take its toll,

Broken hearts bled, as tired eyes shed tears of sorrow.

A question formed upon my lips, just one, soft enough,

You started and soft, wild eyes dark like coal,

Silence shatters like a porcelain cup.

You turned away, silent, as if I’d never spoken up,

Your gaze averted, confirming a truth I could not extol,

Broken hearts bled, as tired eyes shed tears of sorrow.

Words gathered upon my tongue, heavy, longing to erupt,

Yet I pause, with a sigh, ending our day, leaving only a lonely tomorrow,

Silence shatters like a porcelain cup,

Broken hearts bled, as tired eyes shed tears of sorrow.