Misplaced Trust, and What Comes After

I will give you my heart;

A little glass thing.

It reflects the stars burning in your eyes.

You will drop it on the sidewalk,

And call all of my broken pieces beautiful.

Pick it up shard by shard,

And rearrange it until you can see constellations.

I only hope that you don't hurt yourself on my crystalized edges,

That my pain won't leave lasting marks,

That your blood won't be the glue I use to hold myself together.

I will give you my heart,

If your hands aren't too bloody to hold it.