Scraps

My hand pressed flat against the glass
palm lines looking like cracks
but no
just head and heart and life

Rain speckled on the other side
I thrust it open wide
and oh
the sparkles scatter down

It's just, I've been around
for long enough to know
that it's all come to nothing
and I should probably just go
We've known our share of sorrows
We've tasted hints of bliss
But nobody likes listening
to prophets reminisce.