Stained Glass,
Painted black
But it came from nowhere,
A slithering crack,
Started from the edge,
But it worked its way center
Causing the glass to moan and splinter
The weight of the world
And the weight of the pain
The force of itself kept the glass in place.
The late summer itch shined bright warm on the glass.
Like new blood on the floor.
But the autumn wind blew,
New and determined
Till the crack creeped wider
Uneven, awkward, but strong,
The wind and the breaking wrote its own love song.
Orange, yellow, red
The colors leaked in, climbed in her bed.
Blue, purple, gold,
It found its way in; of her mind it took hold.
Brushing her cheeks and opening her eyes.
Love, love, love—to the black glass, she found likes
Moving her hair, releasing the things she always held back
Red, cherry on her face in a grin
And silver, bright tingles sparkle her skin.
Revealing the world and a sun, moon, stars, lakes
Long last, to deserving arms, her black glass breaks.