i am not glass

"you are not glass,"

says the distorted reflection

in the bathroom mirror.

"your bones were made

for crash course collisions

and flesh splitting decisions.

you are not a feather

floating gently to the ground;

you're the god-damned falcon

hurdling at your enemies,

fleeting and feared for your power

in the seconds before you strike.

your heart was built to break

in rusted halves

and bleed rivers worth of red,

but listen to it beat

like an anthem despite the agony.

your skin was meant to bruise

like a celestial body colored

black and blue and purple, too.

you are an indigo sea meant to thrash,

a weathered tree meant to tremble,

you are everything but glass.

so you can certainly handle a fall."