When you pick 

the last of the 

pain from our teeth

I could show 

you but I think

I would find it uncompelling

But let me try 

If I had the color of running the red light

I could make you understand that I as I am am others too:

 

That last sliver of broken glass, hiding to find your heel

I didn’t slam the door or smash the bottles or even yell

Why would you run your finger against an edge?

Was it the champagne flute? Wasn’t it plastic?

The burr of metal marring the dull knife

But it was never my fault

I am lying. This is lying.

The no, really, it’s fine!

I have been damaged.

No, really, it’s fine.

I am so sorry

I do damage.

 

I do damage.

That last sliver of broken glass, hiding to find your heel

The no, really, it’s fine!

No, really, it’s fine.

Was it the champagne flute? Wasn’t it plastic?

Why would you run your finger against an edge?

But it was never my fault

The burr of metal marring the dull knife

I am so sorry

I didn’t slam the door or smash the bottles or even yell

I am lying. This is lying.

I have been damaged.

 

I am so sorry

I have been damaged.

I do damage.

No, really, it’s fine.

Why would you run your finger against an edge?

The burr of metal marring the dull knife

That last sliver of broken glass, hiding to find your heel

Was it the champagne flute? Wasn’t it plastic?

The no, really, it’s fine!

But it was never my fault

I didn’t slam the door or smash the bottles or even yell

I am lying. This is lying.

​

-Maya Sorini