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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