if your voice was a song,
you wouldn't make it to the Top 40.
if your soul was the sea,
it wouldn't be more than a foot deep.
if your heart was a pen,
the ink would be dried out
before you could jot down a word.
if your being was glass,*
it would be broken and swept away by now.
but
i can hear the melody in the cracks;
i can feel the waves in the shallow tide;
i can read the sentences you're trying to write;
i can pick up the shards if you're willing.