part of me is made of glass

part of me is made of glass

the kind that shatters,

ruins photographs

the kind that cuts,

opens veins.

part of me is made of glass

the part believes

in ever afters,

in perhaps

the part shatters–

–curling itself

with desperation

the part fractured

your face.

while.

attempting.

to mend the broken parts

of my glass made day.

the splinters stretch

across your face

as i crumble

into the parts of me

that are made of glass.

i hear them cracking–

–carving life back into

the bleak source

of oxidized vexation.

the glass edges burn

yes.

but self-inflicted fire

is more edible than

emotional fragility.

i broke the perfection of your face

staring from the past’s last breath.

i broke bits of useless armor

stinging from

glass bites.

part of me is made of glass

the part fell and shattered

the part bled with ease.

part of me is made of glass.

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it’s filled with your hands

…can you see

that the way you move

unnerves me.

(it continues).

and that

the way you breathe

reminds me

of what it’s like to be

speechless.

i stumble around

for short phrases

of.

i can’t even remember

the words.

they’re hidden somewhere

behind the

heartbeats

filling my ears

(i think they’re mine?)

but as

i miss each step

each silenced word

attempts to remind me

how to

.

string letters

.

together.how to make the curl of the s

the lines of the L

the cross of the–

–and then.

.

my pen stops as my entire mind

runs out of ink

it’s filled with your hands

and every sentence

i could only wish to complete

is interrupted.

by your eye color

i don’t even know what to call it

since language

coincidentally.

has stopped.

i try to practice

rhyming

and

scribbling

but your warmth

tricks me

into omitting syllables.

my cursive falls to the floor

along with my rationality

i think yours too

has fallen

somewhere in the pile

of forgotten bits of

paragraphs in

all my lost

adjectives and each

of

my neglected nouns.

humanity

you ask where my humanity

went.

i drank it

it tasted like iron and forgotten desperation.

it smelled like admiration.

and even without its

soft voice and forgiving nature

 i can still hear the music

pulsing

over the chemicals

giving me the ability to fly

to soar

to kill

you ask where my humanity went

just give me the gun

it said

and baby i’ll take care of all your worries

blinking

once.

or twice.

but truly

that’s equally unlikely.

also– ha.

i’m lying.

my humanity would never utter those words

it told me to go back to bed

to put down the coffee.

to calm myself

and unplug the rhythmic beats.

you ask where my humanity went.

i buried it.

i set it on fire

and threw it farther than even i could imagine.

i didn’t like the way

it fit

it said i should take a breath

but really.

who has time for that.

you ask me where it went

(my humanity that is).

i sold it

so i could walk in front of cars

just to hear their brakes

squeal.

you’re shivering.

you say.

well

that’s what happens when your humanity

tells you

that

everyone bleeds.

but i don’t.

i can’t.

i lost that ability

i forgot it on a corner

so it could try to sell itself

for diamonds

and dollars

and after it was through

i suffocated your worries

danced them into a grave

along with my humanity.

as i bled the colors

perfection has graced me

through moments of disappointment

longing.

and inevitable desperation.

you were standing in front of me.

my heart was aching.

and the steps you took toward me

contorted an ever encompassing

ever existing

 perfection.

my world was soaked in brown.

and through unfulfilled promises: it was later engulfed in blue.

an ocean worthy blue that drenched

everything you touched.

every word i thought echoed my desire for those moments to survive

right through to the approaching end.

but

perfection as it stood, bore a similar resemblance to a misery

that captured every possible secret of reality.

it brought me to my knees with a tear soaked reverence.

and i drank nothing but the perfect misery that you perspired

this far into

my memories.

perfection in those tortured seconds

imprinted upon me

that look.

the one that attempts to bridge the abyss

keeping our hearts apart.

words stumbled. the world had stopped

and perfection pushed my sanity into the cavity

your brown. your blue.

had carved into my everything.

my anything.

the sound of your steps.

the whisper of your promises.

and as i bled the colors that were drowning my world.

perfection was engraved

into my understanding of eternity.

you’d think that symmetry wouldn’t be so hard to find

my carelessness artfully constructs

the forgetful moments

that transform time into such a beautiful

trivial, emptied

substance

(thankfully-

it remains

 undoubtably refined).

i’ve captured the dirty colors of each heartbeat

circulating the much appreciate blues and oxidized reds.

i’ve swished and remembered

the scents of each mouth

i’ve curiously stumbled upon

in an effort to bite

the world’s must

precious

secret.

but my towers of beautiful ether

are crumbling

with this slightest touch

of irrevocable hope

 such a noun

is easy to disturb

as the word is paired

with disappointment.

but each sip of your voice

feels more perfect than any other

inhalation

and i’m cemented.

i can’t escape from

this air of perhaps

of the maybes

that each syllable is searching for.

in a world built to mirrored itself

you’d think that symmetry

wouldn’t be

so hard to find

but as each step taken to my left

echos each small whisper

the branches and the leaves have been uttering

the ants and the stars have been mumbling

the sky and the dirt have been moaning

i can’t help but realize the misaligned nature

of everything else

compared to your melodious

breath.

but through the catastrophe as i might be can you see that the way you move unnerves me.

Dear Muse,

let me use you

suddenly and promiscuously

as a means to my own heart.

let my eyes linger

so i can abuse

the too sweet nature

your pheromones ache to choose.

let me kiss thee

in dreams most heavenly.

please

muse.

candy of my eye.

 diffuse my struggle

while i

pretend you’re not.

everything i shouldn’t even

think about

while i see your eyes colliding

with my eternally terrible unexacting anticipated and unexpected belittlement–

–my tendency to break

anything.

(this is why you can’t have nice things)

i was told.

but through the catastrophe as i might be

can you see that

the way you move

unnerves me.

and that empty look

of all the

broken pieces of your being

shattering with every step you sought.

please.

muse–

i want to fill it

even if i shouldn’t.

i want to carve out every organ

and replace them with promises.

dig a place in myself

for your every nerve your every breath your every spine.

diffuse me,

muse–

if that’s all you can

actually be.

 your everything

is too perfect;

beautiful;

and breakable

to allow me and my heartaching tendencies

anywhere near it.

so: please.

diffuse my wants.

muse

use me.

confuse me.

i’ll be anything you need.