live in my house of glass
until the storm hits and the rocks fly
i have become too comfortable in my shelter
of delusions and self-inflicted lies
face the truth easier said than done
easier to bury all the secrets and never utter
the past that gnawed at my soul
you were the unlucky recipient
of the assembly of my tarnished memories

live in my house of glass
as it shatters, cuts, and i bleed
the collapsed foundation that never existed
pain struck
can’t call in sick-day when i’m feeling blue
as i revealed everything to you
exposed, transparent
and i’m not good enough

house of broken glass
vibrating walls
the cherry red lips sealed
inside my palms your stored kisses
i caught them all
as you fell through the roof
and fractured the unsteady foundation
but the jagged edges wounded you to a greater extend
i’m sorry
an apology from a man in a house of broken glass
not the same

© simon whittle — from lovers’ tiff: a ballad