My heart is glass, surrounded by pain—
or pane— a window no one should tap,
yet everyone does. My mind is a registry,
waiting to be filled with letters and numbers,
each thought like a record of what I owe
and what I’ve lost.
I bank my worth on others, to write myself
as a blank cheque, but when you cash me
in, what if there’s nothing left?
Tap.
Tap.
Tap—
Could you please not tap too hard.
Fear splinters easy these days, like a dog
lunging at shadows, like me chasing
a rabbit I’ll never hold.
The bushes rustle— something unseen,
waiting to pounce, its teeth already in my
skull, mocking a fragile picture of my demise.
Laughter claws the silence raw—
don’t crack me up.
Because I’m only glass. And I’m only prey.
And I’ve been hiding all along, a glass rabbit
in disguise— already hearing the fractures
before you ever touch me.
