How frail were my dreams
when they pictured you in them?
When I pictured you in them.
Glass canopies within my
glass fantasies now stained
glass fragility built into the framework
of a now shattered glass rain.
I absorb the cuts because I gave them to myself
even though
you gave them to me
even though
I knew better than to ignore the frailty
perhaps in my grey state
I figured only osteoporosis was in my bones but it looks to be in the skeleton of the fantasy
Glass and bones shatter all the same, it seems.
“Whose Glass House Fell?”
- Theeforvendetta










