maybe the moonrise tomorrow will outshine everything else.
a light shines through the underside of a glass bottom
boat and i want to pick it up and replace my heart with it
but i also know that the light will be gone if i do.

my collarbones flaunt themselves when my heart reaches out
to my soul. it says, hey. look. i'm wearing thin and i'm tired
of you and your lack of energy. my legs are anchors into the
void i'm falling into. [or at least i like to pretend so.]

i see wings on every person. some of them are made
from glass. others are just teeth and bone. i cannot see
what my own look like. only the ones with feathers can fly.
i can hear my own wings rattling sometimes.

maybe they're made of knives. i could never see.
steel cold and shaking. maybe it will
open me up one day, and i might realise
that my heart was glass all along.