Words

Sharp glass fragments,
Awkward in my mouth.
Trying to delicately spit out the words,
So that the cuts won't get infected.

If I could piece together each word,
I'd make them a stained glass window.
Letting the sun spill threw,
For you to bask in the meaning.

Instead my words are broken.
Fallen on the floor as a shattered mirror.
Unclear yet sharp.
Showing many choppy meanings and pictures.

If I could I'd turn my words,
Into a twinkling harmony.
Chiming as our whispers move,
Through the strings that hold them together.

Instead they hurt your ears.
Causing you to cringe.
Screeching fingernails grating a chalk board.
Assaulting to the senses.

If I could I’d find all the perfect words,
Put them in a perfect scenery.
Of broken yet beautiful sea glass,
In a jar on your shelf.

Instead my words are ugly and cracked.
A permanently fogged window.
Streaked with grime and dirt.
That has penetrated each pane.