Breaking and Healing

Tears and pain.

Words like venom enclosed in bullets, shot out of two lovers mouths. At each other.

Triggers pulled, one shot after the other.

Walls caving in.

Pupils dilate.

My breath, where is it?

Knees digging into the earth, my hands in my hair.

My mind, I’ve lost it.

My world dissolves little by little, fragments of what used to be love still clinging to my heart.

My hands, they’re tied.

We were a glass at the edge of a table.

Just waiting to fall and shatter.

How do I go now? How do I cook and not fix two plates? How do I sleep and not search for the warmth of your back? How do I dream when all my dreams had you in them? How do I take you out?

How do I continue to breathe if you became my oxygen?

I break.

A broken heart, or just broken?

Who do I call? How can I fix this?

No amount of Knob Creek could erase the images burned, engraved into my mind.

Your voice lingers in my dreams and I become a caged bird, but a bird who loves its cage chooses never to fly again.

The damage, like my heart buried 72 inches deep in the earth, feels irreparable.

I breathe. I breathe. I breathe.

A broken girl digs into the earth for the remains of her broken heart.

Today, tomorrow, the next day.

I act.

Pretend, and role play.

And day by day, a little less.

A shattered and poor excuse for a heart emerges from the earth and that girl wipes off the dirt.

It becomes easier to smile, to laugh even.

To cook and only fix one plate.

The sun shines a little brighter today.

My smile is a little wider. Today.

I am standing on my own two feet.

I do not pretend.

Is this laughter mine?

So foreign to me not too long ago and now I realize: these walls, they never caved.

My heart or mind played tricks on me.

Who would’ve guessed, that I can now, fix only one plate.

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