How can you write something beautiful with a broken heart?
You stared at the empty page, your mind racing but your heart screaming. There’s so much you wanted to say, but how you could you possibly do something like that when you can’t see past the burning tears that never seemed to pause for a break?
You want to express your anger in a poem that never could rhyme, nor flow; the anger deep inside you that you’re convinced he ignited.
You long for your pen to scratch against the paper, the cursive letters pretty despite the ugly words you have to describe him.
But then there were the memories that you rather not remember, but you couldn’t help it because, well, it was him.
He texted you every once in a while, and you just constantly need to read them over and over again until you don’t have to anymore - because it’s ingrained in your mind.
You begin to write smaller because you can’t bare to read your own words, scared of how honest they might be.
How? you wonder. How?
You knew all along, didn’t you?
So why are you so surprised? So crushed?
You can’t write with a broken heart.