How can it be that I can feel every beat of my heart resonating through me like church bells and still feel like there's an empty hole where my heart should be? I'm hollow except for the pain, the phantom pain like that of an amputee clutching a shattered limb and stretching fingers that will only ever again touch in his mind. The heart that you took with you when you left me still pumps and stings but won't feel anything real ever again. And I'm proud. Proud of how I lost my heart to you in the heat of battle, the heat of passion. I'll tell war stories to the neighborhood kids sitting on my front porch and I'll show them the scars from where you cut out my heart. And then at night I'll open my window and look up at the moon, I'll look up at the same moon that you see and I'll smile because somewhere out there you have my heart on your shelf, a trophy of your first conquest. And though I've lost the war I revel in the fact that I was important enough for you to conquer, that I was enough of a challenge to be your first triumph. I can only hope that when you tell your war stories the story of your first win will be as glorious as the story of my final defeat.

I'm screaming on the inside for you to help me
The blood drips onto idle hands
Hands that are clawing from the inside out
I yell and curse and bleed and cry
And you see smiles and bright eyes
You see the facade, the shell, the cage

And he sees the animal
He sees the rage and the tears and the bleeding gashes
And he unlocks the door and comes to me
With water and bandages
He lifts my broken head and caresses to stop the keening
Shows me beautiful things and nurtures back my health
And he loves me
And I'm his
And it's quiet

I will never be that girl.
I will never have blonde hair, pink nails, red lips.
I don't have a cosmo in my oversized coach bag.
I bite my nails, I get bug bites, I pick at them.
My face is splotchy and I don't cover it up with make up.
I sneeze and throw up and get infections.
I fall down.
I will never have a bikini body.
I wear a bikini anyway.
I have freckles, scars, scabs, and I'm so pale that you can see every blue vein in my body.
My handwriting looks like that of a 5 year old boy.
I will never be the girl in the pink summer dress with the high heeled sandals.
My room is a mess.
My car is a mess.
My brain is a mess.
I say things like "I wonder what human tastes like."
I freak out over a home made Ouija board that I didn't even use.
Then I go watch the scariest movie I can find.
I used to sleep with a Freddy Kruger doll.
I root for the bad guy.
I'm stubborn.
I'm angry.
I'm aggressive.
I'm passive aggressive.
I'm damaged goods.
I will never be that perfect embodiment of woman.
Blonde hair, dresses, heels, white teeth, positive outlook.
I'd rather be friends with my books than actual people.

And you love me anyway.

Poor little lost girl. The brightness is gone. No more green and gold, they've been replaced by greys and blues. She's been abandoned, cut off from her final connection to the world outside. She has no one to tie her to the earth. And so she floats among the rain clouds and looks down at all the people holding hands and being human, and she cries, and the clouds cry with her. She cries and the heavens pour out over the people who run and jump and dance at their luck and prosperity. They'll never know what was sacrificed from them to bring such good fortune. Poor little lost girl drifting alone through the air, she knows that if she could just touch down she would be connected again, she could feel her heartbeat again and everything would be fine. But she can't reach the ground and no one is paying enough attention to know that she needs to be plucked from the sky. There is no one willing to climb up and pull her down from between the burning stars. Poor little lost girl.

I figured it out. Why I  love you so much and why I hate myself for it. I really am disgusted at how I let you treat me. Last time we broke up it cut me deep, I didn't get over you for a long time. I cried myself to sleep for well over 2 months. You ripped my heart out and left me empty. True, I moved along to other things, other people, but you were always there. You were hiding in the hole where my heart used to be. You put me through hell and then just when I was getting used to being without you, you decide that you want to see me again. You get close to me, you let me kiss you, you kiss me back and pretend that it means something  to you. You let me start loving you again and for a while things are good, you tell me that the world makes sense now and things feel right. ****, I just can't resist those beautiful lies, so I believe you and I let my guard down. Bad idea, just when I get brave enough to trust you with things I can't tell anyone else you run away. You can't be with someone so far away. I'm too damaged, you can't fix me so why waste anymore time on me. So you stop caring altogether. I accept that you won't be mine, I try to be just your friend but, every time I talk to you you act like I'm keeping you from so much more important things. So I stop talking. I think of you and sit silent. And that's when it happens. . . inspiration. I write. And that's why I can love you and hate you at the same time. I hate you because of what you put me through, and I love you because what you put me through gives me the insight to create. You're my muse. Anything I've ever created that was worth being created was inspired by you. So, I'm going to keep loving, you'll never be able to stop that. And when I write my first play/novel/book of poetry I'll make sure to send you the very first copy, make sure you read the dedication, "To my beloved muse, thank you for shattering my heart and letting what was inside of me out"

If tomorrow I wasn’t there
Would you wonder? Would you care?
Would you cry and reach for me?
Would you fall down on your knees?
If I never got to grow old
If I wasn’t there to hold
Would you even shed a tear?
Is this something that you fear?
Would you notice I was gone?
Would it take time for you to move on?
Or would you forget me the moment you heard
As soon as you knew that my life and been blurred
Would you look up to heaven and picture me there?
With a harp and some wings and a halo in my hair
Would you talk about good times that we had together?
About how I would smile no matter the weather?
Would you close off my bedroom and never go in?
Would you kneel down at night and pray for my sins?
Would the memories fade like a slow burning ember?
Do you think if I died anyone would remember?

Those should be my shoulders your arm is around

That should be my heart that you're making pound

It should have been me you were holding tight

I should have been in your arms tonight

I tried so hard to make you see

I LOVED you and wanted you to love me

I ignored the truth and the good advice

I was sure it was real and I didn't think twice

I put every bit of my trust in you

I did everything that you asked me to

I followed you blindly with an open heart

Your beautiful deception alive from the start

You clouded my mind and I thought you were true

Distracted me while you did what you do

You tore out my heart and you slaughtered my soul

Now all I have is this great gaping hole

And everyone can see through me

Into everything you wanted that I couldn't be. . .