I press my palms against the smooth cold glass. Your eyes are boring into mine but you never get up to return the gesture. As i look through the glass my eyes plead with yours to take a closer look. Look into the cracks of the glass straight into my heart. As if you hear my thoughts you walk unsurely towards the glass. In your eyes there is no kindness, rather mockery. The edges of your mouth turn into a dreadfully frightening smirk. Taunting as the dance over my figure. I blink for fear that if I look to long I'll be sick. My eyes open to find you are gone. The white empty surrounding swallowed you whole. My heart speeds up the temperature rises and then whiteness engulfs me.
As Sharp as Glass
December 11, 2008