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