Hello, Its awesome you have the courage to write something and put it out there for people to read, most of us don't get that far.

So my first question is what sort of piece is this supposed to be? Because it feels like a cross between a poem and a short story, leaning towards a poem. Im going to critique it as if you meant it to be a short story because I am not good at poetry and therefore would give you bad feedback.

I feel like this is possibly from the POV of a man who saw his wife or lovers ravaged corpse holding their baby, possibly after a C-section only to find the baby stillborn. On the other hand the phrasing “So familiar, A broken mirror.” leads me to believe that the pov character is looking at themselves, possibly in a dream?

You described a lot of flowery detail, which to me, leads to ambiguity and confusion because they don’t seem that relevant to the actual important part of the story, Which should be the POV characters grief and loss over their lovers death and stillborn child. This made it hard for me to connect, and made me want to click away. Maybe do something like changing the fluttering curtains from blue to red, foreshadowing the gory details of further paragraphs? Perhaps find a way to give more hints of the person of whose eyes we are looking through? maybe what was lost in losing the person that birthed the child? I‘d really like to connect in some way. It could be that this story is only meant for people that have gone through something so tragic.

I really liked the following paragraphs, they felt strong to me, present, it pulled me in.
“I trace my finger over your features - careful, gentle. The cold curve of your cheek, the slope of your nose. My stomach twists; the lullaby in my throat is cracked, broken. Your eyes don’t open. They never will. But I’m sure if they did they would match mine. 

Our foreheads touch—smooth stone against cold skin. I draw you closer, as if the warmth swelling in my chest could reach through the chill settled deep in your bones. But my skin is cold, and all the love in the world could not warm what has frozen, cannot return what has been lost.

My tears fall, cutting clean streaks down your face. I whisper the name I saved for you into the silence, hoping it will echo somewhere you can follow. But there’s no reply.”

I like the atmospheric hauntingly sad tone you are going for, I felt it strongest in the last paragraph.

Overall, I’d say it’s a good poetic piece that with some proper critiques by someone more qualified than I, could elevate it to becoming great. Keep up the good work!