I: First Song of my Muse

Swiftly
I break glass against my fingers,
wine will mix easily with blood
(I do it for you).
My skin is only a veil-
I am breakable,
but not untouched;
my art hides behind my blushes,
underneath my eyelids.
I stretch in the sun,
my hair shines:
the sky reflects the veins of my wrists
(no, I do not open that way,
not even for you.)