i’m just

breaking

breaking

until i’m

broken.

as broken

as the glass

on the table,

reminding me

of how hard he

slammed

the door

when he

left.

i keep

faking

faking

until i’m

not.

until i can

shut the door

and let down

my walls

and cry

and cry

tears of glass

cutting down

my cheeks

until my eyes

are swollen

and my cheeks

sting

from the slice

of the

tears.

i avoid

speaking

speaking

until i think

i need

to have

spoken.

the words

lingering

on my

tongue

and pounding in

my head

are as sharp

as cut glass

and just

as dangerous.

i can’t stop

thinking

thinking

of everything

i did wrong

and everything

i could’ve done

right.

if i could stop

thinking

thinking,

maybe i could be

okay

again.

maybe if the

thoughts weren’t

glass

cutting through

all my innocence

and all my

positivity

and all my

happiness,

then i could be

okay.

but i will never be

okay

again.