Walking On Glass

Her words crashed to the floor broken shards of glass lead to the door. She wanted you to know but you couldn’t hear, listening had become your biggest fear; from what might be really said and an empty space next to you in bed. Now she must rise everyday walk over broken glass that leads the way farther and farther into the past feel the blood and sharp shards of glass. The nights pass cold in bed from fear of what you might have said.