A Poem is like a Window

A poem is like a window
whether clear or color paned,
revealing self and soul of which
true essence can't be feigned.

Each pane provides in of itself
a way to see the words,
a way to reach down deep inside,
and pull their meaning towards

the surface of my brittle heart,
be delicate, I beg you;
secrets held in shards of glass
can shatter just like they do.

A poem is like a window.

With just three words, and nothing else
she tore my heart in two;
replacing words that made it whole,
when first, she said "I love you".

She said "there's someone else..."
(breaking glass, with words she dealt)

tracing webs of splintered cracks,
my tears of ink scribe each line;
so when you think of windows
can still you see through mine?