a glass heart
you took my heart from my chest like it was clay
you tried to sculpt it into something.
something of magic,
and something of envy of anyone who wasn’t you
and of shame for myself and who i was
shame for my hopes
you sculpted it into someone who would doubt who they were
to doubt who’s body it belonged to
who’s ribs it would beat against
who’s body it would beat for.
but little did you know
when you held it
it crushed like ashes
and it rose from that.
from flowers that lie within the ribs
from the seeds that had been planted
in safety of my heart.
and that heart became a pheonix
it was made out of glass
for only the worthy to touch
and only the weak to break