Glass

You have always been more glass bottle than man
Hard and cold on the outside but something good on the inside
Maybe
But don’t you know that the outside matters?
Don’t you know it’s the only part I can hold?

Might

I mourn
Not the life we had together
But the one we could have had.
The one we saw in between coffee at the breakfast table and the museum trip we took once.
That life that was glimmering and shiny and seemed too perfect to be true.
The life that you and I both wanted so desperately.
The life we deserved.
The life that maybe if we had reached out a little further
Pressed the tips of our fingers into that shining, shimmering, fantastic light,
Maybe we could have grabbed it.
Maybe there’s still time
Maybe there’s not.

I mourn the life that I wanted with you.
I mourn the person that I could have been and the person that you could have been.
God,

you could have been great.

I think that if I were to blow this candle out now, the last thing that you laid your hands on in this place,
That I would extinguish the both of us.

But I must put out the flame.
Or it could burn this house down.

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