Expression Of Age

My promises to you were second-hand glass

Destined to break the moment they were set in place

Precariously balancing one moment with its still water

But broken in bloodstained shards the next

My promises to you were a house of cards

Bare lies stacked on top of each other

The slightest blow sends them crashing

Into a black-red mess on the floor

My promises to you were the last of the fall leaves

Waiting for the time to leave, never quite right

Shriveled, color-drained, and devoid of life

Waiting to be crushed under my steel-toed boot

My promises to you were the night breeze of Saturday

Seemingly reminiscent of happiness to come

An embrace on nights when you felt alone

Only to bring you into the touch of coldness

My promises to you were a Pandora’s box of lies

Spirits of what could have been rattling its fissuring lid

Begging to be let out and wreak havoc on your heart

An inescapable fate of the cruelty of reality