#breakable
Dont treat me like glass
Because you think Im fragile
Treat me like glass
Because I am beautiful but breakable
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 12:21 AM UTC
She is just a small glass girl
Will catch you eye but she wont hold your gaze
Instead she simply reflects whatever others want to see
She treads carefully
To fall is to break
She feels empty
Missing the life that others possess
She is alone
Mysterious yet uninteresting
She is broken
Unable to heal like human flesh
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 11:28 AM UTC
Where am I, you ask?
Lost in the clutter of my mind
Thoughts all jumbled up
Like a spool of tangled thread
And just as thin
So close to breaking
Fingers get caught
And slowly turn purple
Once released, permanent damage remains
My conscience plays the fingers
My mind the thread
Pull to hard,
the thread snaps
Don’t pull enough,
and it’s forever knotted
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 9:07 AM UTC
Am I glass to myself?
So easily shattered.
See through the image I talk about;
Do I pretend to be different
Than a mirror of doubt?
Reflect back only critics
Buckets of loss
With every look in the eye,
A victory tossed.
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
I'm just a lamp.
You're just a bulb.
I give you power.
You give me light.
I stand tall and strong, waiting to be used.
You roll around, fragile, easily breakable.
Together we ignite something beautiful, that makes the world a little brighter.
It's nothing magic, just how we were wired.
One day I will fall, my intricate shade will crack.
My solid base absorbs the shock, so you remain intact.
Turned loose from me, you're ******* back into the old lamp from the closet.
Amazing, it still lights up, covered in dust and cobwebs.
A little warmer, yet a little more dim.
The only problem now, is that lingering scent, of burning dust and cobwebs.
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 1:12 PM UTC
.
*Catch me in a beat
In the way I was promised
So that I won’t break*
.
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
I am empty
I said
In not so many words
The veiled confessions dripping off his ears like candle wax
As the wick burns down
Filling the room with a palpable smokiness
That only I can sense
I am choking
I am crawling
I can feel my light fading
For I am a teacup
Sitting on a shelf
Dusty but decorated
My handle pointed towards the wall
Breakable
And uninspired
How I long to be filled with more than emptiness
To have him pour all of his being into my heart and mind
To have him look into my eyes and see more than himself
But each confession only serves to deepen the loneliness
As a search for a soul to listen through the words
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 11:42 AM UTC
I do believe that, people's
breaking moments aren't spectacles,
to be watched like carousels in a carnival,
not free for all(s).....like publc seesaws
anyone rides....sees what comes and goes
my folks' words play in my mind, like a spell
"don't let your eyes stay wet too long, they swell,
one day, those tears will make you unconquerable
your fences and walls ultimately become impregnable."
...but.......there's a truth that's unavoidable
there're days when we're not that invincible
::::::::
sometimes, we melt, we flow
hurt by people's deeds, we don't even know
why.....the days, at times, become too cold,
confusing...other times, painfully bold
we break, we droop............we fall
we realize...we can't always be that tall
::::::::
we become...........frangible
just as breakable
just as fragile
as porcelain
......................................
because
we're human.
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 8, 2017
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC
We can easily be a shattered glass,
and it's beyond impossible
to put us back together,
into the original forms,
for what remains afterwards,
is never quite fits perfectly
into its original lines,
because, the stitched up pieces
would have microscopic holes,
which do let the air escape.
@jobiranyc (9/18/2017)
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 3:13 PM UTC
He told me that he is burning alive,
not literally, but inside. Said that he
feels palpitations every time he thinks
he might go back;
like his heart is a jarful of moths,
beating against glass.
I told him we are all breakable,
but that he is going to make it through.
He asks me if monks can really
spontaneously combust. I reply, no,
but they light themselves on fire.
It’s a way of protest. He says oh.
He then says, I want to protest
against Adderall, Cymbalta, and
Marijuana: he still can’t focus, still
can’t be happy, and being high is
a minor fix. I don’t know what to say.
We sit silent for a while. I ask him
what depression is like. He laughs
and says, it’s like a really drawn out
stubbed toe, only it’s in your head
and no matter how much you curse
you think the pain will only get worse.
It always does too. I just want to die.
The next day he scorched himself.
Someone called 911 and reported a man
walking out of a pawn shop
with a jar full of something dead
and then poured
gasoline over his head and lit a lighter.
I cried. I wondered if there were wings
still fluttering when he burst into ash.
He could have at least saved what little
flight he had left, what little life, for me.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
Okay, so there might be a possibility I have maybe slightly convinced myself that I may theoretically have developed the beginnings of the tiniest dollop of a smidgen of an enormous crush on you.
So please don't break me.
REPOST IF THIS IS YOU RIGHT NOW
please comment I love to read thoughts on my work!
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
paper.
your skin, it's like paper;
pale, translucent, fragile, and yet --
it comes from something so strong.
i wanted to write all over you, make you
mine
but i couldn't, out of fear you'd shred
i was never good with words, i know, but try to understand --
it's the thought that counts
and the thoughts i pen down
on this, my temporary
paper
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
You say I'm lovely, baby; my soul's so free
Yet you imprison me like an animal
Behind bars for being so mesmerizing;
What a sin; you keep me put to watch and revel.
You say I'm strong, baby, but I'm only glass;
Maybe not a mirror but a stained window
So spectacular, as my light trickles out;
Your own Northern Lights; I am breakable, though.
Funny thing about living art is: it dies.
Sad thing about trusting love is: people lie.
Honest thing about heart is: it's in the mind.
Fables about romance: feelings can be kind.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
Would you be the person who
Willingly pulls my heart out
And turns it to dust?
Or would you be the one
Who is tender
Handling the fragile, breakable
Pieces
And fit the shards back together?
I will willingly surrender
To the greater part of my heart.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
Broke- My wallet
Broken- The promises I've made
Break- What I need.
Breaking- My heart
Breakable- My job, I skipped too many days
Break-up- What's happened to me.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC