Shattered
broken to bits
I tried to clean up
but I sliced my skin

Scattered
into the fray
I pushed them out
'til they all washed away

Weathered
time's funny like that
the edges have softened
and the waves washed them back

Remembered
as I walk along
colorful and harmless
pressed to my palm

Shatter and fall
On the ground

Shatter and fall
Like a pane of glass
Dropped down on the floor
Ask me a question and I’ll have to think of it, once more

Who am I, watching the days go by?
Who am I, to say yes or no?
Who am I, to give in to all the pain and sorrow that befalls our doom?

I’m building the walls of my own tomb
Who am I, watching the days go by?
Like a pane of glass, I’m fragile
Agility has never been my strength
At least not when conversation arrives

I’ll just crawl up and hide
Take all my feelings inside
And
Shatter
   and fall
Shatter
and
fall
  Shatter
and
      fall
Shatter
       and
     fall

                                                      Fall

If my trust in you was a form of art, surely my mistake was my masterpiece

Two organisms without Eyes
blindly react to each touch
Each payment does not add to much

how did you see me through stained glass?
and I'm guilty of hiding
but was I hiding?
Or were you denying my pure intention?

Would one consider that lesson,
Or did I misjudge you for someone with pure intention?

There is something about him
that I couldn’t take in
like the water swirling half-empty
in a wineglass,
my hold shaking as I made my way
to the dusty jaws
of our old paradise.
Love.
I close my eyes
and remember the moment I felt his cold fingers
slowly slipping away—
the wineglass shatters in the grass.

The water comes for
the prettier flowers.

A glass is a glass
until the glass leaves you f’d up.
Fighting the midnight train in some bubbly
that drowns you into abyss.
You can’t hold on,
because holding feels far worse than letting go.
So you let go with the glass still in your hand.
The hole still in your heart.

At high tide, the sea ejects
foam and glass fishing floats.

We wait for the waters to recede,
tiptoe around anemones and *****;
I spot a small green globe.

She says it belongs to a Japanese goddess,
her eyes plucked out by a vengeful lover
and cast into the deep.

I see only an old sake bottle
crafted into a sphere,
etched with sand and netting patterns.

Tomorrow, I will look for agates
while she searches for the goddess’s other eye.

i can remember the pain,
but unlike most other pain
i can't feel its touch.

i can remember how it felt,
the smooth yet knife-like edge
slicing open my dense skin.

i can remember that feeling,
i yearn for it to come back
and haunt me.

i can remember the sweet release,
the deep incision
and i want it back.

yet i cannot remember how it felt,
i cannot feel the cold glass
that was once there.

but i want it back.