My Glass Heart Poem by Melissa Joy Chesky

I've bled crimson
and blue;
hemorrhage of the heart,
bleeding from this
sinless myth: emotion.
Dregs of the reaping flowing through
my already lacerated veins;
all could have been avoided
by ducking from
Cupid's soaring arrow.

What was Cupid's arrow tip made
of that could break this
glass heart of mine?
Who knew a heart could
be this fragile to the touch?
So cold to fingertips?
How much can this glass heart
endure before abhorrence of self?
Before complete self-annihilation?

No one knew,
until it was too late
to save me;

before my glass heart
was, indeed, my demise.