Months of healing
      And there are still cracks.
The glue of hours of tears and trying to stay busy-
It takes work to heal.
          When you want to feel better but it feels impossible.
     They say that closure is a myth. But all I ever wanted was the truth.
     Sure, I’m not the same person I was-
You taught me a lot.
And I don’t regret knowing you.
     But there are still days I can’t avoid
Remembering the feel of you
Remembering you singing to me
Remember laughing
And know I could never be good enough.

Broken
Somewhere deep inside.
A crack across the soul, creating a cavern.
It’s a dark place, full of worry and hurt.
It’s somewhere difficult to pinpoint, but it’s
Scraping nails on a chalkboard.
It’s monsters under the bed.
It’s silent tears on the pillow.
It’s a broken note in the hallelujah chorus.
It’s the fear of never being found in the encroaching wilderness.

One that speaks of so much more than just the darkness.
The despair and the fear enclose everything,
And there is no escape.

I dreamed about you again last night.
It’s been months.
But I dreamed-
That we were getting a redo.
And I knew it, but you didn’t.
And yet, I decided to say yes.
I guess I haven’t learned my lesson.
Because there we were again-
And inevitably it was going to end the same way.
I accept my fate to forever be nothing to you.
*But it felt so good to feel your smile again for a few precious minutes.

The most honest thing I told you was that
     I just didn’t want to hurt you.
And you replied that that went both ways. You didn’t want to hurt me either.
          I just didn’t know that that assertion came with an expiration date.

Who gave you the power to break me?
     To crush me up into little glass shards.
You didn’t know, but I was a fragile package,
     Meant to be handled with care, not dumped on the ground because you were hurrying towards your own finish line with no thought of anything else.
But here I am (my pieces, that is), trying to get taped back together: some glue here, and a patch there.
And still fully offering myself to you.
Hoping that these sharp, glittering pieces will be enough for one more moment.
          Just one.
     Is it too much to ask for a gentle hand to put me back up on the shelf- returned, a little used, but still willing to try again and hope that next time,
          The glue will stick and maybe even heal-
To fully be again.

I want to be brave.
But I’m afraid.
Afraid of you hurting me again,
Because that’s all you seem capable of-
At least where I’m concerned.
For months all you’ve done is devastate me-
But I still can’t seem to stop caring.
     I must just be a *******.

Why do we play this game- the one where neither of us feel like we can be open?
     There are too many people to play pretend with- for once I just want something REAL.
     I want painful honesty and
          Uncomfortable truths.
     I want the real you, every part.
I want the scars and the bruises.
          I want to know that there is more than the side-stepping.
     I want head-on, into the storm, crazy sincerity.
          I want to go all-in and not feel like I might be gambling away my soul.
     I want to talk like it’s 3AM all of the time- that level of complete candor, no filter, no thought of judgment.
          I want your innermost thoughts and no worries about being wrong.
I want you in your purest form- not the way the world has taught us is the only way we can find each other.