I can feel the pain rising in me.
The tears threatening to escape this thing I inhabit
called my human body.
But I also can’t feel anything except the numbness spreading across my skin,
flaring from the wounds you left in me.
It’s spreading through my chest and
I can’t breathe.
Love isn’t what I’m counting on.
I’m counting on the skies to split open and swallow me whole
I feel like I’m playing a game of chess and you’re one move away
from checkmate.
We both know there’s no way I could win and escape,
but you continue to fill my head with empty promises of forever.
Promises you knew you could never fulfill.
Every letter, every poem, every little trinket
Worthless.
Just like I was to you.
I hope you’re happy now.
Happy that I have been reduced to nothing but broken, cheap china,
that you gave up trying to put back together