Glass girl (touched my body, not my soul)

The scars he couldn't see

I wrote this from a place of deep hurt. I gave my body, my trust, my broken pieces to someone who never truly saw me and only what he could take. Even when I was already cracked from my past, I let him in, hoping he'd stay, hoping he'd love me enough to heal the parts of me I hated. But he didn’t. He only loved the way I broke. This poem is my way of telling that story of how I was used, blamed, and left even more shattered than before. It’s about the pain of realizing you were never loved for who you are and only for how easily you could fall apart in someone else’s hands.

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Glass girl.

I welcomed your hands across my skin,

even when the past had hollowed me out.

I believed love would slip away

if I didn’t give you the ruins I had left.

---

So I stripped myself, not just of cloth,

but of pieces I never had the strength to lose.

---

I never loved my body.

It was only a house where my ghosts wept,

a shell I carried, a currency for something

I could never quite hold onto.

---

I was already cracked before you touched me,

hairline fractures spidering under my skin,

where old hands had already pressed too hard.

I was a glass girl, smiling through shattered veins,

pretending I wasn’t already breaking.

---

You looked at me,

not at the trembling ruins stitched together,

but on the way the light bent through the cracks.

You called it beauty.

You called it love.

But you only ever wanted to touch,

never to heal.

---

Have you ever seen me?

Beyond the trembling body,

beyond the bleeding cracks,

beyond the desperate, broken thing

that only ever wanted to be loved

without being torn apart again?

---

When I didn’t hand you the last splintered pieces,

you left.

Like a thief disappointed by a broken prize.

Like love was something you could pocket

if you pressed hard enough.

---

And still, you asked,

still, you wondered,

why I flinched under your touch,

why the glass girl didn’t shatter completely in your hands.

---

Maybe you never loved me at all.

Maybe you just loved the sound of breaking.

---

Now all that remains are shards

too small to piece together,

and a silence that slices deeper

than any of your careless touches ever could.

---

You told the world I was desperate for attention,

that I begged for every wandering eye

to fill the crater you left behind.

But all I ever wanted was you—

not as a pair of hands,

but as a shelter.

---

Was I nothing but a body to bruise?

A mirror to stain,

a soul to forget?

---

Because when you left,

you didn’t just walk away,

you took the last flicker of light from my chest,

and left me scattering into the dark,

Pieces of me falling where no one could reach,

And that's when I fell apart.