I'm like any other teenager
lucky enough to have made it past puberty
posting my entire life on the internet
parents sick to death of my text alert ringtone
swimming in part-time paychecks
and graduation gown order forms
and I have a boyfriend.
Had a boyfriend.
Until the day he began to turn to glass.
Hold up, hold up. I know. It makes no sense.
How could that happen? Flesh and blood to glass?
Impossible, right? That's what I thought.
The first thing to go were his hands.
He'd wrap them around me and kiss me goodnight
he'd text me from a crowded mall food court every night at six
he'd tuck my hair behind my ear
he'd pull down the zipper of my jeans
but then I needed him to lift me up.
I'd slipped and fallen, tripped on my innocence
pretty soon after we'd laughed and tossed it aside.
I went to pull myself from the floor
and I put my hands in his…
"What was that?" I asked him from the floor.
He slipped them into his pockets. "Nothing, babe."
Nothing. Just a crack. He tried to pull me up again.
They shattered. "Your hands!" I cried.
"It's nothing, babe." and put them back in his pockets.
I managed to get up by myself, and we kept on walking.
The second thing to go was his face.
He'd lean it head on my shoulder while we were watching movies on the couch
he'd kiss me in the car before I dashed up the driveway, already past my curfew
he'd smile when I told him how sexy he was, and jokingly tell me to shut up.
but then I needed to hear those three little words.
all I wanted him to do was speak. Just three little words.
Or maybe I'd say them first.
But there was no reply.
His face had turned to glass.
Cold and hard.
With lips made of glass, he couldn't tell me that he loved me.
His face was stuck in that smile from when I'd told him he was sexy
and when he chuckled and told me to shut up, jokingly.
But with lips made of glass, he couldn't tell me he was joking.
I frowned, but closed the car door
and said goodnight, already late for my curfew.
The last thing to go was his heart.
He'd dream about me, and close his eyes to picture our future
He'd look at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world.
But then I needed more than just words, more than just hands.
I needed love.
I'd tiptoed around him for too long
trying not to break him
knowing that I'd be the one who got cut, 'cause glass doesn't bleed.
And with a heart made of glass, I could see right into it.
Right through it.
I saw his blood pumping, his ventricles and chambers,
the valves opening, closing, opening, closing.
A heart made of glass.
I could see right into his heart.
And I could see that I wasn't there.