Your eyes
they are like glass.
Lovely and welcoming
artful, even.
But I know that beauty
can so easily shatter
and slice my skin.

Your mouth smiles,
rosy lips curved.
But the curve is not
a happy one.
It seems to cut
like a scythe,
fickle
like a crescent moon
soon to wane.
  You only bare your teeth.

You offer me
a hug,
a firm, comforting embrace.
Console me.
But you feel
more like a corset
binding my soul
  As well as shackles
  could my wrists.

Your words,
they seem to raise

me, lift me higher.
But then.
But then.
  
  You bring me
  shattered,
  down.

Maybe I am
the glass one
after all.

You are honest
in your lies,
at least.