You don't know how hard it is
to turn my headlights into West
and know that I can't go on
forever.

I'm not lost,
just wandering,
through these opaque windows,
and somehow back home.

Is there nothing I can do for you?
Age has withered appeal for me
as you stare at her, and she becomes
a girl without pain in her eyes.

I'm broken again,
losing track of where I've been
and where I found myself,
in-between the layers of your skin...

...I should have stayed.
I should have gone
when angels rent their lungs,
but sin asked me to think of him.

I'd lay your burden down, only
to prove myself weak, and to speak
your thoughts would be
to fulfill your prophesy.

I'll never admit that my face
comes from your dream
(or was it your wraith?) or the
bottle that floods your future.

But still I cannot let you go,
cannot fall asleep, as I fear
that you may sublimate
while I dream of holding you.

-Kate Gubert

You must be made of glass,
the way you break
and don't bend.

The way you shatter,
the way you turn so cold,
so quickly.

You must be made of glass,
the way I can see
right through you.

Like I'm looking in on you,
staring into empty space,
but still you break.

I'm exhausted from handling with care,
in this "look, don't touch"
relationship.

You must be made of glass,
the way you scream and ring
when run my thoughts around you.

The way you polish,
so as to show no soap
stains on the set table.

You must be made of glass,
the way you can cut me,
the way you make me bleed.

You must be made of glass.

-Kate Gubert