glass

I'm a million little shards of glass. 
Smash a bottle half full or half empty, it does not matter-
Get too close and you will hurt, or wait for me to prick another. 
melt me down into something beautiful or stained, it makes no change-
I am still brittle, crumbling, waiting to fall again.

Pour something in me that helps to forget and I'll help wash the memories away. 
Still, darling, you'll leave me mottled, cloudy unfinished on your coffee table-
and in ten moons, a lover will return- you'll cry into her arms- and once again, I will be discarded
as a simple reminder of darker times but not a keepsake
The memories didn't become a desert island, they were simply a tide going out-
And once it washed up on your sandy shores,
I found myself missing the tsunami it never brought back.

Maybe then I'll be a bottle thrown out to sea. 
Full of millions, and millions of stories-
the smell of cheap beer tells the genre, I guess. 
Worn out, faded, but not as wise as an ammonite
I don't deserve to be in the hands of the child who finds me. 
the mother scolds. be careful with that, dear, could be sharp-
warm, chubby hands are replaced with freezing liquid that scorch my insides
it make me smell like a dentist's and shine like a tacky wedding ring. 

My insides, now, are tissue paper- 
My heart's ripped right in two by the weight of the love it could have held. 
I'm tossed into turbulent waters, and I'm drowning; the cork wasn't screwed enough-
My brain, on the contrary, is scrunched up so tight it's dripping 
Black, acid rain and fading to grey. 

I am crammed, stuffed with stories, with,
hi i'm timmy from england but with england spelt wrong, or
Hey follow my instagram and Look me up i'm an aspiring poet and
Do you ever feel like a bottle floating in a giant ocean?
The bottle tells stories too, or the lips that have passed over, 
the blood that has become because of me, 
A kaleidoscope showing grey and not colours.

I find my home, now, in the arms of a lonely trawler. 
She too is drifting further and further from land, 
but she stopped, just for a second, considered a world that ceased to spin- and,
for a moment-
She spotted the sparkle in my glass.