sometimes,
the s y l l a b l e s of your name
still feel like staples in my chest.

if this is a warzone,
then call it a warzone.

there are horror films
where my heart
should be.

my mother loved me so
she burnt my heart out
before i met you

my father loved me so
he handed me his anger
before i met you

my family loved me so
there was nothing left
when i met you.

i don't think i've ever felt that my life was completely my own and i don't think i ever will. i am thrown off-guard by people who simply choose to live. mesmerized by people who throw themselves into their life, as if that is all they are here to do. mind-boggled by people who've never considered the possibility that their life may be bigger than their own, that it could be -- easily -- if they'd only let it. contentment is not in my vocabulary, it is not in my bones; i don't sing in the shower, i breathe.

true pain is the kind
that is u n f i x a b l e
the kind that doesn't
come with an instruction
manual and a simple
way to make up for it
pain that never goes away
because it never can
true suffering is found
in this pain
and true strength is found
in living through it
or, rather,
learning to live
despite it.

there are no words
in the dictionary
to explain the pain
i'm in it's
as if it's been
super glued
to my insides,
then tied in
a knot

i cannot convey
i cannot convey
i cannot convey
this pain

but please do not try to fix me;
my brokenness is all
i have left.