A path lined with shards of glass
from crystalline tears
and secret glances
the brief encounters
the blank stares
the nights spent searching for what is gone
or forcing breaths into flattened lungs

the pain of stepping on all those hearts
that I have shattered.

True: tall, handsome, writes poems
and makes them smile, even when he can't.
Ultimately left alone to walk
this path of shattered glass.

I would shatter them all again,
if it meant I could feel anything at all from their love,
if only just the feeling
of glass in my steps
and regret in their souls.