The Day of Breaking Glass
'I don't have the time'
memories might apply.
I treat you as though you were mine
Because I was a voyeur of the time you first cried.
That was when you hid
Behind your painted glass champagne
That made you more than just a kid
With a long history of pain.
Now I have your hand,
A bit tentatively, a bit carefully
Because your glass frame is like sand
And you slip away far too easily.
Pour the champagne out,
But not into yourself.
I will help you, I'll be here when you turn yourself about
This is something with which I am willing to help.
This is your day to break the rosy glass
And feel the poisons flow away.
this is a nod back at myself, when i was struggling with... things.
.
