Walking On Glass
Her words crashed to the floor
broken shards of glass lead to the door.
She wanted you to know but you couldn’t hear,
listening had become your biggest fear;
from what might be really said
and an empty space next to you in bed.
Now she must rise everyday
walk over broken glass that leads the way
farther and farther into the past
feel the blood and sharp shards of glass.
The nights pass cold in bed
from fear of what you might have said.
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