The Things I Can't Touch

What Would Have Melted Anyway

Never has death been so beautiful

glazed over

glistening beneath the cold sun .

Broken glass came raining from the sky,

crystalized dreams shattering on the concrete.

I could try to catch them in my hands,

to capture what I could not have,

but they fell like tear drops,

quickly and quietly,

millions of pieces

a funeral on the floor.