A secret not so closely guarded. A heart of glass shattered most days, in small ways. A passing comment or random choke in the throat? Chip, chip, chip away. Take it all! I don’t want it anymore. Get up, glue it together, rudimentary. Set yourself back. On your heels, better than on your toes, right? No one to blame but yourself, heart of glass. Harden up, stiffen your upper lip, life’s hard! Deal with it. Good advice! chip, chip, chip. What do you do now? Exhausted. That’s life…is there more than navigating my own minefield? Sounds like a “you” problem. Do better. Okay! Are you okay? Sure. Chip, chip, chip. I’m too young to feel this old. Burst of anger! That’s power, right? Throw things, tantrums, brushes, makeup. Cool it! Sorry. Except I’m not really sorry, just sorry your perception of me may have changed. Bruises bursting to oceans, flakes of glass fall into the pit, a rain that slices brutally. Remake it. Rename it. Reclaim it. My glass heart, light refracted, dreams protracted. It’s all coming at me from odd angles. And the worst part, I fear, is that we will come away, none of this having made sense.
Hidden Jules 