My Words

Molten glass, I shape
Each crevice, nook, and
Broad expanse.
A lover’s touch
To pull and change,
Before the hardening.

I step back
Gaze at my perfection
I watch the lines
Change, curve
Where not intended
It is not my own.

I fling this force,
This fragile thing
Far from me.
I barely hear
It shatter.
Glass dust
Clings to my skin.

About viewingcamelot View all posts by viewingcamelot

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