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Before it Shatters

I let you slip away without
knowing that I had you.

Like someone putting a piece
of glass in your hands without
you knowing, so you drop it.

If that's what it was like,
then the glass would have been
blue and gray shot through with
green.
The colour of your eyes.

I thought that I was a circus animal, and you were the ringmaster
Trying to control my every action.

But in truth,
You were an acrobat
performing dazzling tricks
for the audience.
And I was your partner,
the one who was supposed to catch
you.

But I let you fall,
and you relied on others to carry you.

But maybe it could change.

Because you never let me fall.
Because while you let others drop me,
you never let me break any bones.
You only let me get bruises.

We played games with each other,
neither of us knowing the rules
or the outcome.

But maybe, if we could leave
the circus tent.
And sit on the grass
without costumes or masks,
and simply talked.

Things could be different.

Because I'm guilty and ashamed.
Because you're confused and unyielding.

Maybe I'm imagining this all up,
and we're still in that tent,

Playing games that look different
to both of us, but are really
the same.

But maybe I'm not.
And maybe we can both be acrobats,
trusting each other
as we dive and soar.

And maybe, just maybe,
I can catch that glass before it
shatters.



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