i can't keep doing it.

holding in my emotions like this,

putting them in a little glass bottle,

nestled in a nook deep in my soul,

lit by dim candlelight,

gaining another and another hairline fracture

each time i touch it again.

they will explode.

one day.

they will shatter into a million pieces,

spraying glass everywhere,

cutting up my shelves, my pillows,

my already bleeding heart.

it's a mess i won't be able to clean up.

but i keep doing it anyway.

it hurts more without the bottles to put it in.