My heart is a pile of
Broken glass
Jagged twisted edges
Writhing pricking stabbing
At shattered-ice
Images actions words thoughts
Reflected in the green
Shards of bottle-heart
That slid out of your
Sweat-slippery hands
And now my tiny mountain
Of glass-needle-knives is
Coated in the substance
It used to contain:
Sticky sweet liquid life
Of the party
Pounds through my veins
And now soaks into the floor
Dripping from sharp-shard broken-bits
Warm beer sinking
Into the carpet where
You dropped my heart
And didn’t notice
The mess
You left behind