Loneliness is glass

Loneliness is glass, reflection of a happy past,
of things you had, now things you lack.
a surface to press you cheek unto, just to ask
where is your life, where is that old spark?

Loneliness is glass, a clear thing that deceives
because fog is all that you really know
ever after the stabbing you received
when time as a dagger sank itself low.

Loneliness is glass, the shattered type
the witness of how you bleed out in grace
and the puddle you make on the floor gets ripe
as you twitch and contort your face.

Loneliness is to remember while you forget,
it is to frown while you pathetically smile.
It is the sad soft and cold wind of when the sun sets
and the night makes it all turn vile.