Her heart was a china porcelain tea cup, with hairline cracks,
That crumbled away with each step.
Not mine.
My heart is a glass piggy bank.
I store away my memories like coins.
They clang around making noise, trying to seep through the cracks.
Some are meant to be taken out, to exchange for candy,
Sweet words of pity and sorrow,
Or laughter and disbelief.
But others I keep stored away, pretending they’re not there,
The pennies in the corner,
The loudest of sounds.
And people shake my piggy bank heart,
Maybe adding more coins, maybe taking them away.
But the coins of the heaviest mass and luggage weigh me down,
Like an anchor in the sea,
And they tumble and toss,
and make spider web cracks in my glass piggy bank heart.
Do you hear it?
The clanking of coins,
the broken glass falling spilling blood into my toes.
Do you hear the pulling and crashing and beating
that’s deep within my chest?
Of course you don’t,
Because we guard our hearts like we guard our gold.
Because we save our tears until the rain falls down.
Because we cover the clanking and banging with fake laughter and smiles.
Because we’re too afraid to open the piggy bank that we sealed.
Because we’re too afraid of what they’ll say and think.
Because love has given us knives.
Because love has given us light.
Because love has given us nothing at all.
So I’ll take my glass piggy bank, and the tokens it holds.
I’ll store it away, in the dust and the mold.
I’ll keep it from the hands who try to fix the glass in tangles.
Because love, is a dangerous angel.