Shattered Glass (By Cat Matchuk)
It itches and burns
to crack open and smell the blood, wasn’t the intention.
Growing raw against silk sheets, I couldn’t fix it.
It scrapes and glides
if you are glass, you are shattered.
If you are glass, I’ve rubbed you against my skin to stop the itch
and it sets me on fire.
You scooped up the glass and said you were looking into a mirror.
The shattered glass became you,
and it cut me.
To crack open and smell the blood.
It would heal if I stopped the itch,
it would heal were you not glass.