in the youth of the morning
a glass figurine grasps rays of light
the sun graces his soft contour
radiant colors bouncing off the
***** surface of the table
the dust does not near his skin
his lineament is something i saw once
in a dream, across the ocean.
do i brave those tumultuous waters?
to what end?
so that my fingertips may keep their distance?
so that we may breathe the same air?
so that our eyes may burn under the same sun?
my wistful dreaming knows
not reason but the desire
to witness the distant diamond
glinting like the stars
that beg me to drown in hopeless ventures
yet my lungs would happily fill with saltwater
if only my skin could know
the touch of an untouchable

darling,
don't let them fool you
with their sweet chamomile gold,
perfumed coffee,
elegant and attractive champagne
or even sparkling, fun Cola.
for you are not tea,
their source of energy,
their party flavour
or their soda.
they will consume you in an instant.
because darling,
you are whisky in a crystal glass.
strong,
liquid fire,
unable to be understood by many,
but oh, so addictive.


-May Colde

They call you the girl made out of glass
A princess, so fragile and naive
Who cannot hold an ounce of darkness
Always the one who is deceived

You are breakable, but not weak
You are stronger than they believe
Shards of glass cut through so easily
Piercing each of their misdeeds

Every part of you is just as deadly
With every shard, you are complete
How do you hold such an honest heart
No need for illusions to achieve

Your rise to a better reign
You will become a fiercer queen
To start a revolution
In ways the world needs

A girl born from the embers
And raised within hell's heat
Derived from the ashes
Of every ancestor deceased

As you are made of glass
When you break, you do not bleed
Shaped by mental wielders
One, who was forged to lead