Shabby-Stabby-Shard-Man (Day 32 of 100 -- Poetry challenge)

I think to unbreak
what is broken.
You a heaping pile
of shards.

All those sharp words
pointing my way;
you needle-prick
of a man.

A million pieces
everywhere.
I’ll try to put them
back together,
yet I know
you’ll never
look the same.

Missing bits where
there is a void of light
sucking in what is
not there.

I’ll use spit
just to see you
in form once more;
long enough
to walk away
before you
shatter all-over
again.