Trio Of Words

Shattered Glass

I always wondered how someone could love broken glass until I met you.

I mean why would someone want to hold shards of glass in their hands if there was a chance of being cut?

Why would you want to make yourself bleed?
But like I said that was until I met you,
That young broken man.

I was more than willing to pick up your shard of a hand and hold it in mine,
even though I knew there was a chance my skin could bleed.

You were worth the risk of any pain or wound.
I truly did love you.

But I knew in the end like broken glass you could not be whole again.

It seemed that I had became broken glass too,
the day that you left me.
You were afraid of love and I guess in some ways I was too.
Yet here I am still in love with you,
my piece of glass that shattered to soon.

Maybe we are all just a bunch of shards that try to become whole again,
but we don't realize that it's okay to be broken,
and it was okay for him too.

I didn't love him because he was
pure satin but because he was shattered glass.

To be honest with myself truly
I was always shattered too and we just couldn't pick up the pieces.
But that doesn't change that I loved him,
the glass that was once gripped tightly in my hands.