glass

a glass figurine, shining and new, placed on a shelf
shards of sun burst through a window, reaching clear to the center, refracting.
giving it life.

she places the cold glass into her palms, afraid she will drop it
afraid of the loud shatter
of a million pieces

the blood under the surface of her skin
warms it
slowly

as she marvels at what she has.
so clean with no marks, scratches or fingerprints
it's the purest thing she owns

her excitement to share it with other people
-the world-
makes her shake with anticipation

the grin on her face is proud
and she's not sure where to begin
as she steps out

some of the people she meets marvel at the beauty of what she has
they add more rays of light
into the glass figurine
and it remains so pristine 
sparkling 

but the sun has to go down.
the people she meets become indifferent
to the glass figure

they just can't see what it does with the sunlight,
she thinks
hopeful

tomorrow, they will see how beautiful it can be.


in the light.


tomorrow doesn't come
it's just darker and darker
until she can't see what's in front of her face

soon, even the blood under the surface of her palm
doesn't warm the glass anymore.

the absence of her sun
and the stark, cold figure in her hand runs a thrill up her spine
her teeth, chattering
hairs standing on end
as she stumbles to find her way through the night

the figure starts weighing her down
but still, above anything else, she feels that she must keep her grasp on the smooth surface
before it's taken from her forever
lost in the dark

she starts hearing whispers of people lurking around her
telling lies
she lets out a small scream when someone brushes his hand against her shoulder

and feels something reverberating in her chest
and wonders if it's her heartbeat
or the echos of some distant drum

she gets accustomed to the dark
can see the people around her now.
their smiles riddles on their faces

upturned mouths and the gleam of white teeth not meeting the eyes
not smiles, she realizes.
grimaces
of pain.
years of pain.

a tap on her shoulder
she spins around, and someone takes her hand, which is empty now
and places her very own, ice cold, figurine into her hand

she never saw who took it from her
she didn't feel it happening
and she never felt the whispers around her
sneak themselves right into her head
changing into her own voice
making themselves at home.

home.
if I get home, she thought, I can start all over. I can begin again.

Daylight creeps over her horizon
and everybody
is gone

she starts towards home
feeling beaten
dirty
breaths coming out sounding something like sorrow

some breaths just catching in her chest
like her sweater catching on a piece of loose skin

someone is in her path
and she stops
his smile is simple
and they look at each other.
he's close enough to touch.
if she whispered, he would hear her.
even if she couldn't hear herself
over the noise in her head.

"Hi," he says
clear and inquisitive
and her heart jumps.
she holds his gaze steady, but he has no reason to break it.

slowly, she lifts her hand
with the figurine
for him to see it
but her face falls at the sight of it

it's dirty and chipped
with scratches and pieces missing
no longer smooth.
a tear of mourning traces her cheek
what happened? she thought.
how did this happen? it was perfect.

Still smiling, he takes it from her hand
her eyes dart to his face
his eyes
which are fixated
on the imperfect glass figurine
and he's still smiling

and she shakes with anticipation
again
expectant

he takes her hand
holding her figurine with the other
keeping as safe as he can
and leads her
back home