Your mouth is like a cloud, dousing the floor with glass like raindrops. Raindrop glass. The libel words that crash onto me, like fat, thick drops that stain my face, my shirt; planing to the peak of my breast, over my heart.
My heart, unwittingly, has taken it; my frigid skin absorbing the rain, the words you've panned upon me.
And I go out barefoot, unprepared, to face what is, stepping on the drops, the shards gouging into my foot, like reoping a wound. Raindrop glass.
Forget, I attempt; the moisture remains on my cheeks, and the scars make it impossible to dry my mind of the memories of your raindrop glass.