Have you ever seen a brick go through a glass window?
It seems to happen in slow motion.
The window never expects the brick to be thrown.
The brick still shatters the window anyway.
For a brief moment, the two touch, then nature takes course.
The broken pieces of the glass litter the ground, and the brick is on the other side.

I was the window.
You were the brick.

Now I am stuck.
Picking up the broken pieces of what used to be.
The shattered edges of what was slip and slice
My hands, my heart, my head.

Once glass is broken it can never be put back together.
The window that held everything in is gone
letting the heat and warmth flow into the cool night air.

For a time, I tried to open that window, to you.
Let in the stale air that surrounded me.
In the end I decided to leave it open, just a crack
to slowly change.

It was not enough.
Now I am shattered.

I can't hold back what's inside now.
the cold air is rushing in.
I am scared.
I am shattered.

I try to pick up the pieces, to patch the window with what I can.
Nothing fits perfectly.
The window that was there
the one you shattered
was all I had.

I sit in front of the broken window
hating the brick for what it has done.
hating myself for not opening the window sooner.

I am shattered.

You are a brick.
You did not throw yourself.

I did.