I lean on you so gently,
as if you will break,
and become like the glass,
underneath my skin.

I will worship and hate you,
destroy you and praise you,

To me you were perfect,
but I, I was not,
I was broken,
like a porcelain doll,
cold eyes staring unblinkingly,
frozen forever.

Brown eyes,
so sad and so lonely,
and your pools of blue,
they tore right through me,
the only thing that assured me,
you were worth the hurt.

Everything is so worthless,
but you are so perfect, and the city lights scream,
at you,
in agony, at the disappreciation of their,
vanity.