we thought our love was bullet proof

like the glass of the prisons
we have put ourselves in

uncaged- we roam
the streets of passion and consequence

darting between fear and love
so easily, as if it were our natural state

our natural form, now alien
to our bitter bones

we carve our niche
sit on the anchor of our own
intolerance to change

we are not bullet proof
we are a paper house

caught in the chaos of the
earthquake