This temporary emptiness
feels equivalent to a million wine glasses.

You're fragile, drunk, and dying.

How amazing is it
that human beings have the capacity to love things?
My heart, she
is a muscle,
an *****,
a symphony in my body.
Her tissue is made up of courage and strength,
but she shows me;
It's okay to be weak.
I love her,
more than I have loved anything.
Her positivity flows through my veins,
the beauty of my bloodstream.
She is the reason I think and breathe;
for that, I owe her everything.

So, here's the thing.
I think I forgot how it feels to be alive.
I know what you're thinking
how could you ever forget something
so simple, so mindless, so ******* beautiful
such as the life that chose to be lived by you?
It's complicated, exhausting, and honest-to-god terrifying.
I've never been more afraid to be afraid
But I'd be lying to you if I said
I would ever give up trying.
I'm slowly learning not to sink
through loving, learning, heart-beating.
I'm remembering the concept you could not grasp
Happiness is nothing but a feeling.

The river's current was supposed to be weakened by the barricade
but the bags of sand and the bricks of clay that once gave her closure,
reside years beneath her murky water.
Where do broken hearts go?
Do they get lost at sea?
Do they float?
Do they still beat?
Or do they find a home?
Perhaps it will reside with the girl
who thought her warmth could thaw he who was cold and ******.
She couldn't, though,
because his alluring bed of rocks broke more than just her bones.
Because you see, her barricade that was weakened by the river
caused her lungs to fill with that murky water.
She wasn't lost.
She didn't float.
There was no longer a heartbeat,
so she no longer had a home.
When I looked myself in the mirror,
I couldn't help but choke.