I manufactured glass hearts 
filled to the brim with emotions that would bring me 
to my knees, 
and I laughed maniacally at the way 
it destroyed others. They were nameless screams 
that broke into the calm 
of the witching hours that haunted the night and 
lulled me to sleep in the arms of demons 
who only loved me to feel human. 

We made love to the sound of broken hearts 
and fractured friendships; 
muffled sobs and blood-curdling screams, 
blocking them out with frantic kisses that 
stole my breath and caught my skin on fire 
under their lustful hands. 

Vocal chords contorted into sounds of agony 
did nothing to sway my emotions, 
but the demons whom I loved for false reasons 
were tempted away to hear the 
sirens of misfortune, 
and I was left alone with my thoughts and makeshift hearts 
I had yet to stuff into someone’s unsuspecting chest. 

It was then that I realized 
that the glass hearts I molded to perfection were modeled 
after my own ever-beating, ever-hurting heart – 
for I did not know how to love anything that did not hurt me.

now i see fire...