"I worry about you."
That's... what she said.
Black hair dangling dangerously close to her green eyes.

I wanted to be witty.
Play it off like I was full puzzle.
Not a pile of pieces.
My void heart got the best of me though.
It grabbed my tongue as if trying to escape
"I worry about me too."

We were never them
their glass would shatter and scatter
when hard times came
but you and i
we may have cracked
but our shortcomings became masterpieces
artefacts
of what we used to be,
celebrations of what we weren't:

then we fell
through the same cracks we celebrated
and nothing broke our fall
so we floated,
drifting
in disbelief, we gazed at each other
where a thrashing ocean of emotions
pierced our stare,
a draining era
that left us like them,
shattered
and scattered.

Take every broken piece of me
but
don't try to put them back together
I've tried
I'll show you the scars, and bruises
of my heart
to prove it, but,
I don't think I need to.
You already know
how it feels to cut yourself with glass.
Take my broken pieces
and hang them off the highest tower
you can find.
and let the light
dance off them
and make them glint like fire.
Then even though they are broken and shattered
They will become art
like a stained glass mosaic.
And people will come and gape at my beauty
For some did not even know it existed
but, make sure you do not let these people
touch my shattered pieces.
For they will only crack it with their
frosted fingertips...

For how do you think I became broken in the first place?

how can I pick up
all the pieces of others
if mine are scattered

how can i help you
i can barely help myself
i hurt too, you know

how can i teach you
to love yourself if i don't?
i don't love myself.