I am glass.
A vase full of daisies that you tip over in the heat of a passionate kiss.
Only I am not the one whose passion ignites your lungs.
I'm the girl who waits patiently for a message that never comes, a proclamation of love never to be heard.
A whisper in your ear, a passing thought, a vision in your drunken haze.
I am steel.
The inner workings of your being, I made you who you are today.
I trained your mind.
I forged your tongue.
I was the devils advocate and I burned in the flames of your new found confidence.
I am stone.
Stone faced, caution taped,
unable to love again.
Thrown up at a window,
but you’re not home;
skipping across your surface,
waiting to finally fall.
this is desperate for critique