It’s cold here, all alone.

The fan is off but I’ve never felt so cold.

Am I destined to stay here, wasting away?

Spending my days cold and alone.

All just because I can’t move on.

It’s weird that I can be so attached.

My glass heart rests on a pillar.

You dare to hold it in your grasp?

You dare to lift it up and carry it home?

Or maybe you’ll stay for a while.

Maybe you’ll leave and never come back.

I saw you walking along the path of glass hearts resting on pillars.

Examining each heart carefully, but never touching.

To touch is to commit, you didn’t want that.

You came up to my glass heart, so I hid in the bushes.

I was afraid to say hello.

You left, but I whispered.

“Please come back.”

You must’ve been surprised, but maybe you weren’t.

To find a plush pillow resting under your glass heart.

You asked who put it there, but nobody knew.

I was surprised to find you sitting near my glass heart.

You asked me to sit down and enjoy the view.

You must’ve put something in my drink.

For I fell under your spell.

With a pillow under my glass heart.

I was contempt, I thought you were.

But maybe you weren’t.

It would explain how one morning I woke up and my pillow was gone.

My glass heart was left with a piece ripped out of it.

You probably didn’t know, but maybe you did.

You had stolen a piece of my glass heart.

You probably aren’t surprised, but maybe you are.

When you see there is still a pillow resting under your glass heart.