All she ever wanted was a clear line, a glass door between worlds,

A separation between fact and fiction that is tangible, obvious. She wanted to see.

Clearly.

 

She was not beautiful, what with ghost skin and blue veins laced

About crimson eyes. It didn't make sense to any of them. Everyone was

Scared.

 

She was beautiful, listening to breaking glass in her phrases and finally

Verses. She found shattered mirrors fascinatingly perfectly wondrously

Imperfect.

 

Her

Reflection

Slowly

 

Shatters            Fades             Like glass might have, would have, did

But it wasn't anybody's fault

That she had not and had to

Nobody touches this

Glasses

Crash

Crash

Sha

tter

Go down in pieces,

Splinters, light and magic

 

Concrete,

Too rough too hard too fazed unbreakable, too many syllables to fit in a beat

Breaker:

Standing breathing bleeding smiling, fierce and dangerous, thrilled

To bits for the sounds of violence in everything she does

Dropping glasses for the best reasons best thoughts any anyone

Ever everyone dared to know they could have

Best crash best hurt when it cuts with silver edges like knife blades

Like moonlight slivers like fresh glass

Dropping glasses and plates and the queen's jewels

Wondering wandering right through to the other end like we could never do

Dropping glasses that shatter that leave diamonds like mirrors like similes

Like diamonds like broken glass.

Dropping glasses just to hear them break

Like mirrors would if she had some.

 

She is not                                              beautiful

But her not broken                 crushed reflection is.

And such beautiful,       horrible crimson eyes

Bleed clear no different from us.

We're not so far anymore

From understanding.

That's how come

She even

Still

Is.