Might I shatter

I’m the fragile crystal glass

Sitting upon the grand oak table.

And you’re the hand that’s daring

To rip up the cloth from underneath me.

The Five Senses of Me

Talk to me like I’m glass

And you’re afraid to get cut

Touch me like I’m a corpse

And you can’t shake me awake

Listen like I’m a rerun

And give up before the punchline

Look at me like a sand castle

Fated from the beginning to drown

Taste me like I’m out of print

To gather dust and be forgotten