When you lose
someone you love
you turn the color
of glass.
Colorless.
I thought the absence
of all colors was black.
It’s not.
I am.
When you lose
someone you love
you turn the shape
of glass.
Sharp.
Broken and splintered,
ready to hurt anyone
who only dares
to come a little bit
closer.

The condensation of our deeds
           dripped like rain on the glass.
Steaming up the virtues that
              weren't spoken.
But deeds condensed within
                                      our actions.

We spoke no syllables,
               but everyone
               was etched in clenched fists
                               against moist glass.

His kisses where like streams running
           down my back, to the reservoir
of passion dripping over the fringe of
                                      my gasping waves.

Each was crashing in strength,
                         and I drowned
                                             within him.

You built your castles out of glass
and waited for them to be broken,
so this time you would have an excuse
to bare your teeth and attack.

They cried, they apologized
but nothing could satisfy you,
you knew this would happen after all
and the audience needed a show.

In the aftermath's silence
with glass at your feet and blood on your hands,
you howled at your accusers,
you swore you swore you swore
that they started it,
that this wasn't your fault,
you had no choice.

All I ever wanted was that hour glass.
To be pretty and normal like them.
To be the cheerleader
To not be the freak.

All I ever wanted was that hour glass.
A figure like my mom and sisters
To be long tall and desirable.
To not be like me.

all I ever wanted was that hour glass
But nature wasn’t kind to me.
A cups, a skinny waste and a round fat behind.
Are what I got instead.

All I wanted was an hour glass.
Not just 90 pound of low self esteem
And a round fat ***.

Shelter me from a playground of indecisions
Bury my fear and grant me that my hope brings me visions

I am never whom I was
I am never these illusions  

The child in me still searching for absolution.

I don’t want my youth to be a grave that I visit
I don’t want my youth to be a grave that I visit
I don’t want my youth to be a grave that I visit
More than fire and rain
More than sticks and stones
A home

A castle of glass misguiding emotions that are born
Never growing younger the age outdoing the clock

Decisions growling
Decisions howling

The child in me still looking for a flower.

I don’t want my youth to be a grave that I visit
I don’t want my youth to be a grave that I visit
I don’t want my youth to be a grave that I visit
More than fire and rain
More than sticks and stones
A home

A home
A home
A home
A home

Welcome home to childhood dreams
Welcome home to a destiny
Welcome home to a fragile heart
Welcome home

I don’t want my youth to be a grave that I visit.

Soft like glass.
I am doe-eyed,
stuck between the future and the past.

Smooth, transparent, yet fragile
let me fall
and i promise to shatter
all over me
all over you.

Until we are both red-stained,
blotchy
tear-soaked,
and nauseous.

Soft like glass.
I am running
between the future and the past.