I am and have always been glass. A sheer veil of gossamer skin over a heart so transparent. Do you see me? Or through me? Sometimes I look at my thin veins and cannot help but wonder how such frailty withstands the constant pummeling of life. How such frailty contains life. I am glass do I hold against the battering winds with arteries etched of acid tears? Do I shatter when crushed or simply return to the sea in a thousand pieces of memory and time. There are days when beauty feels as if it is the very fiber of my bones, and I worship those days.