On my fifteenth birthday, sat around Grammy’s dining room table, they brought out my cake with candles lit singing a very out of tune version of the happy birthday song 

But, all I could do was cry

Looking around the dark room, it seemed like it was only me, with the light from small thin candles illuminating my young face

After I blew the candles out, and the lights flickered on, I looked around to see everybody else but you

Little did I know at that moment, that it would not be the last time.

You always seemed just out of reach

A knowing glance from your rearview mirror, a quiet knock on your bedroom door

Your silence speaking to my fear, 

but instead of holding it close you looked directly through

The glass that was my eyes breaking up into a sea of salty streams,

Our world was growing darker, as I watched you melt away

The clouds began moving across the sun and took you with it, leaving the shell of what once was

Replacing it with the whispers of their malice and greed,

Replacing it with what you now are

Inside me still is the little blonde girl that was yours 

Bandaging her scraped knees, and holding her own hand

Wrapped in the same skin and shattered bone,

Holding the spell handed down from years long ago

Our mothers, our example of what unconditional love feels,

Our mothers, the ones who hold up the sky,

Our mothers, our shoulder to burden 

Our mothers, the ones who lift us up when we fall. 

But I am still picking up the pieces of what is left from our house of glass.