7 Sharp Shards of Glass

A glass jar sits on my desk.

Filled with coins,

every coin I’ve ever

picked up off the ground

since January 2018

never to be used or spent.

Buttons, buttons, buttons.

Almost spewing over

the top of the glass jar

and of course,

a few random matchbooks

and guitar picks mixed in.

Filled with sparkling brown liquid,

the glass jar

containing the oh so sweet taste

of Mexican Coca Cola,

I crave on the daily.

A glass jar sitting upon a doorstep,

filled with a thick, white liquid cream.

Slowly melting and rotting as time goes by.

Dropped off in the early morning

awaiting its retrieval,

along with the morning paper.

Like none other, this glass jar,

voluptuous and bold, filled with sand

trickling from top to bottom,

with no worry in the world.

Outshining any and all.

The fine glass jar,

I yearn to grab and throw.

Smash. Glass so thin and just right,

worth every shattering sound

that will echo as I release my pain.

Any empty glass jar,

sits and waits.

Longing to be used, needed,

wanted.