The Heart

April 24, 2008
By
Why are we given full hearts when they are clearly meant to be broken?
Fragile like a piece of glass, my heart shatters into shards, falling to the bottom of my soul.
In the crowded room I can see them point and whisper.
Speaking insults just loud enough for me to hear, like screaming to my ears.
I back away, run to my room where I go hide to feel safe.
I wish I could be anywhere but here.
Just fade away and disappear into nothing.
I hate when you say you don't understand.
It's only worse when you pretend that you do.
They say time heals all wounds.
That's a lie.
All it does is give you time to think and dwell on the pain.
Try as I might to live on, to hold my head up high, I still feel the wound and the scar will forever remain.
Invisible on the hearts surface.
Outstretched on the shards.
I use a thread of dignity to keep it from falling apart.
You say you'll spend years putting yours back together.
That isn't true either.
Barely two months and now I'm a number.
Now I wonder...
If you ever really loved me.
I mean what else did you exaggerate on?
Besides how much you loved me.
Did you ever really care?
Why can you lift your chin when I can't stop crying and staring down at my feet?
All great things come to an end.
All dreams are woken up from.
I close my eyes, but even in the privacy of my own mind I am not safe.
I still see you.
I burned the pictures but it didn't save me.
Erased the messages you left but still hear your voice.
The memoirs of us tucked away in a drawer that I must resist to open.
I still hear your words, they cut like knives leaving scratches on the glass.
"I DON'T CARE."
I try to dream but am blinded by memories.
Haunted by this past.
Is this what its like to be heartbroken?
I'm stuck in this moment that wasn't meant to last.
I spent years building my wall but with three words you took it down.
Leaving my heart bare and unprotected.
Now the wall is ruined and my fragile heart has been poisoned.
I guess this is what I get for letting you in.
For being so credulous.
When will the day come?
The day the glass is whole again.
Repaired and un-expecting to shatter and invisibly bleed once more.
Each time falling, crashing harder than the last.





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