Tired Doll

she was always made of glass fragile and cold to the touch, yet beautiful scattering light all around never able to hold it herself

a heart in full view harbours no secrets thin cracks, like spiders' webs or fissures in the desert sand tiny pieces suspended in place as though still connected the bloody fingerprints of everyone who had tried to mend it before was it ever truly whole?

she was always made of glass jagged shards waiting to form when she fell down to the floor and every time, she left a piece behind

someday all that will remain will be the spiderveined heart 'pon the bloodstained floor empty, at last, forevermore