Broken Mirror

As I look in the glass of a broken mirror and see a distorted figure, I begin to wonder how I became the man I am today. Obsessed to the point of madness, I stand in the doorway beaten and broken. I walk down the dusty halls headed to the room I dread, yet love the most. I fix my eyes to the bed. A beautiful figure lays there in silent bliss. It is the one who completes me. We are engaged to be married at the beginning of August. I walk over to her and take a seat. I began to talk to her telling her how things will be when we are married. I was telling her that no matter what I will always keep her safe and warm. She did not respond and I look at her closely. I began to cry realizing that she had been dead for close to three years. Her decayed body lay mangled and eaten in the very wedding dress she was to wear on that faithful day in August. I kiss her on the forehead and tell her I will see her tonight and returned to my study and gazed into the broken mirror which represented my broken heart.