Your glass heart in my hands

You are fast asleep.

You are drifting through the darkness: a seemingly endless abyss from which there is no escape.

There is nothing but the darkness: leagues and fathoms and feet of it...

But you were a person once, you know, before you found yourself in this sorry state. You had a name — perhaps you had several names — and thoughts of your own; feelings, too.

You had friends. A family, perhaps.

You had a life.

You might have had many lives.

You are one, yet you are many. Fragmented, your past dances behind your eyelids like shards of glass: sharp to the touch, and yet...