And I still remember every Christmas.
how I was hopeful, longing,
For what life had to offer.
I dreamed of love—
And how I would flourish in it.

It’s in my soul—
Like flesh pierced
By the glass-shaped pain
Sharp and raw.

Nobody knows how to help

I try to remove them,
the shattered memories
Each sharp shard
Lacerating my insides,
Tearing my spirit,
Pain echoing in flesh.

A ****** mess, I get more hurt.

Same old same,
Everything I touch,
stained—
  overflowing emotions,
Red, heavy, thick
Intense—  

It’s a deeper wound.
Larger than itself.
It keeps cutting.
It keeps tearing.
My Faith.

You get second-hand
updates
Of the way their hair looks
Piecing together glimpses
Of a parallel life
You hope next time
Some mutual friend shares their face
On a random Sunday
On that photos app
they look happier.

The symptoms included:
Chest tightness, nauseas
Laboured breathing, heavy heart.
They say it’s a natural reaction
—I must be allergic—

To

     Bitter memories and regrets.