· poetry

If tears were glass

mine would plunge to the floor like nails hammering sand.

If tears were glass

I would cry, an ocean, and it would roll towards the sea

raging at rock faces and breaking into bluffs

If tears were glass

you would see their declivity transform my tempestuous ballet,

you would broadcast it from my eyelids to yours

If tears were,

mine would be a stained-glass window.

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