Stained Glass

In silence I rest waiting for the light to come streaming through the stained glass. I wait for the colors to illuminate the small closet of a room I'm in. The only sound around me is an interior shattering. Only I can hear it, no one else knows the pressure it takes to break me. It splinters in my ear and I know it to be evident.

With every heart that rejoices there is another that breaks, a love that will never be known by one side of a pair while they watch the others happiness knowing that it will never be theirs. With every tear of joy that falls there are ten more of pain, those that will never be caught by the hand of a lover or dried away by a gentle kiss. They just fall and make a puddle that no one will see. It gets deeper everyday. Sometimes it feels like I'll drown in it.

I wilt in back and away so no one's glance can befall on my shame, on my face, my tears. Maybe it's not the glass that is stained. Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm tarnished, just damaged goods. Maybe when the silence ends I'll finally be free.