May God Forgive You

I didn't invite you into my life, my hands never reached out in prayer. It was you who invaded precarious space and you who built dreams out of air. Without hesitation you smashed down the walls I'd carefully built round my heart; ignoring every cautionary sign, blind and deaf, you were sure from the start. I begged you to treat me as fine porcelain that could crush in the hands of a fool; you brushed aside any misgivings I had, then charged like an untethered bull. I am lying, prostrate, in the pool of my tears, the shards of my heart scattered far. I have bottled my dreams again, corked them up tight; there's no me left, just soul-seeping scars.