come down (the fire or the fuel)

she
is the
brick
i am the window
or something
like it...
who knows if thats right
maybe she's the lofty stars in
the blackest night
or perhaps a law broken
or a love unspoken
she is surely a catastrophe
and she is the loving arms
and the warm fuzzy sweater
laying on the sunday floor
and she is the glass of water
but
she
is
not
the rain
well, maybe the rain
if it were in a cup
bit she is not the sure thing
and she is not the luck
she is not a storm approaching
but she is lightning when she leaves
she is not
the walk on a warm day
and neither is she the
window shade
she is not the
empty street
but she is the breaking of the day
and thats not what i meant but
it is what i mean to say
she may not be the brick forever
but i am still the window
and
however it
comes down
she has completely
shattered
me