You know that if you tried
Just a little harder
To get me to open up,
I would’ve let myself
But like the glass vases that sit untouched in dusty shelves
I did not dare to move my feelings in the slightest
For fear of breaking apart.
But you were the earthquake in the morning
Waking me up,
Sending not me but all forms of me
Crashing to the ground.
All the feelings I had safely stored
Broke into small shards,
Intermingling with each other on the floor,
Creating a beautiful yet broken rainbow
On the bottom of my bedroom floor.
Meticulously, yet again
I am rendered useless as I
Try to pick up all of ny pieces from the floor
To try and reconstruct.