Author’s Note
Through the Shattered Glass II is a continuation of a fractured exploration of memory, trauma, and lingering presence. Written from the perspective of the “other” in a haunting, spectral voice, it blurs the line between witness and participant, reality and echo. The poem is meant to unsettle and mesmerize, leaving questions unanswered—because some truths exist only in fragments.
Through the Shattered Glass II
Fragmented Nightmare: Through Another’s Eyes
Poetry by B.D. Nightshade
Shards.
Red, silver, sharp—
I cut my palm on what isn’t there.
A laugh—too low, too close,
slips beneath the floorboards,
slithers into my chest.
I remember the air.
Cold, metallic.
Or was it hot, burning my throat?
Footsteps echo backward,
though I never moved.
A hand grazes my shoulder—
I recoil. No one is there.
Yet the pulse in my veins
screams I am not alone.
Mirror.
Fractured.
Eyes staring—mine? Yours?
I reach—
and the reflection spits me out.
Something drips.
Clock? Heart? Faucet?
I follow.
Red. Wet. Wrong.
A scream.
Or a whisper.
Or a laugh I know too well.
Memory fractures—
two bodies, one space,
and the space is infinite.
The other, the same,
or just a shadow trailing mine?
I crouch over shards,
bare feet sticky with nothing and everything.
Hands tremble—they belong to someone else.
Or maybe to both of us.
A name?
No.
Nothing.
Just the ache of presence,
the itch of absence,
the smell of iron in the hollow of air.
I feel her—
or him—
or the echo—
pressing against me from everywhere
and nowhere.
Was it laughter?
Was it pain?
Was it memory, or the ghost of memory?
Shadows twist.
I am falling.
Or rising.
Or sinking in place.
The floor tilts.
The walls bend.
My pulse, a hammer.
My breath, a blade.
My scream—
stuck.
Still.
Here.
Shards of me, shards of you,
swirling, bleeding,
unclaimed,
untouchable,
and the world bends around the space
where we were—or were not.
And I—
I remain.
Closing Note
The fragments linger. Perhaps you have glimpsed them, perhaps you have not. In the spaces between breath and shadow, in the shards of memory that refuse to settle, the story continues—both everywhere and nowhere. Beware what haunts the mirrors.
Journey into the Hexverse
Through the Shattered Glass — B.D. Nightshade
Step back into the shattered world and follow the echoes… Can you uncover what really transpired?
If you would like to explore beyond this mystery, you can find more of my work in The Library of Ashes.
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