Unrequited, Quiet

To think: the drinking glass and water are thought of as a pair......it shudders it shatters it violently ripples the senses and good sense, but some are self-destructive......perhaps they were born with a crack, perhaps taunted mercilessly for their flaw that they carried around like a lying lantern—it led them astray, alighted the worst view possible and led them on down darknesses that demand pieces and shards. And so you came to me....not the same, for I came with no shards to give.. The water can be darker than dark......you came needy, with your mouth open and your hands out, empty in the absolute...I can say now that you were just a place to be, but I've always enjoyed the thought of a tall glass of water......something about its common charm, its necessity......I don't know, but there you were, and then there we were.. I adapted perfectly to your shape, I filled you with life, I know I did.. But.....water can't fill a crack, as much as it might hope and dream of making stable a glass that is already broken, that, truely, more than it loves to hear itself talk, loves the thought of its own deathwish loves this more than me, life itself. So here I float....soaking the darkness and there you lay, shattered in pieces, useful to noone, not even yourself a warning of feeding on the drink of misery.....and calling it free.