favorite thing

i dont know how to hold something beautiful in my hands
without breaking it. 
i look down. what have i done!
the memory of its shape still clear as day. 
its smooth surface and its lovely imperfections and shade
ive memorized every spot.
but before me now lies a broken carcass
that cant be put back together again. 

the panic and the dread creep in on me
like the smoke from a building on fire
and takes my breath away, 
i didnt mean to. 
hyperventilating now, scrambling to pick up the pieces
but it will never be the same. 

this is what happens when you take other peoples advice.
they dont have to live inside of you.
ive broken my favorite thing.