All thats left are these shadows on my bones
The glass doesn’t cover your photograph like it used to
You’re not some precious protected memory anymore
Barely more than a raindrop on the window pane
You were the ghost on the other end of the phone
The bullet in the chamber inches away from the barrel
And the odds against the both of us
Despite all of this we both held on for so long
You taught me that its called a death grip because when you finally let go
There is a piece of you that departs with her
All thats left are these shadows on my bones
From where you held on too tightly when it was time to go
*~W.C.

That 2 am chest-clutching, bowled over with eyes so swollen you couldn’t see 2 feet in front of you?
That’s not a broken heart.

The feeling like you’re gonna throw up, and your stomach can’t seem to digest anything?
That’s not a broken heart.

“I still miss you.” texts or calling them a thousand times?
That’s not a broken heart.

What’s a broken heart?
Feeling NOTHING. Absolutely nothing, no emotions no anger no pain. Everything seems fine, but a part of you knows it is not, and you can’t even force yourself to be hurt or feel some sort of hurt. Nothing happened, you think, but something happened, you think again. Why aren’t I feeling anything? WHY? Your mind screams a thousand questions and you don’t know how to answer them. You’re mentally exhausted, and you can’t even breathe properly anymore. Even opening your eyes is a chore. Yet you feel numb. So numb it hurts. You don’t cut because that pain isn’t the same as the one you want to feel. Physical pain is miles and miles away from the pain of losing someone you love and care for very much.

Then your brain starts to shut down, and thinking is no longer possible. You lay in a fetal position for what felt like an eternity while the rain poured outside and all you could think is, “The rain is crying for me.” You don’t move a muscle, in fact you can’t even move a muscle and the air was toxic. You hear lightning and thunder, and struggle to think of all the happy moments you had before but nothing comes to mind and you give up. You lie there until you fall into a deep slumber.

Sleep. It’s a beautiful thing to be able to sleep, because in dreams you create a world that’s entirely your own and no one else’s.  A pretty lake set against the background of mountains far away and a cerulean blue sky that matches his eyes. Oh. His eyes. The perfect world you dreamed suddenly became a nightmarish wasteland. The sky was black as night and life had faded from the world. You were trapped in yourself, running from yourself and nothing else could be done.

Screams. You sit up in a shock, questioning the universe about what happened, and then you feel it again. The numbness, the emptiness.

The cycle repeats and every day you feel that way is a torture.

-x.o.

Dark floats out into the silence
Crashing on the banks of Prometheus's wings
Opening a velvet-silk curtain.
To a fabric of shadowed stars
Cloudy fingers sew it clean
While invisible hands stitch pearls back in.
A ghost flits on the hallway stair
Reaching for the last shafts of sun
Tumbling off a silent dream
Blind as black with a lullaby hum
Filling the gaps in an empty line
Somewhere between dusk and dawn.