When your heart is broken,
there is no automatic cure.
Your internal grief will grow,
and will never go away,
just slowly become easier to deal with.
Days, and months will pass.
As a smile rises on your face,
a gently curved plastic,
only to hold those who know nothing.
They sit on your swing,
pumping their legs
forward, backward.
But they only rarely move.
Their movements are forced,
by the showers of tears, and expeditious winds.
The heart ache is stable.
Yet will eventually go numb,
nothing will ever be able to cause the same immense pain.
The guards rise up,
neglecting connections.
Flirt.
Smile.
Fake it until you make it.
You will hear the crowds telling us over and over,
"It WILL be ok".
I'm here to tell you it won't.
Never.
So, find useless distractions.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 10:28 PM UTC
When your heart is broken,
there is no automatic cure.
Your internal grief will grow,
and will never go away,
just slowly become easier to deal with.
Days, and months will pass.
As a smile rises on your face,
a gently curved plastic,
only to hold those who know nothing.
They sit on your swing,
pumping their legs
forward, backward.
But they only rarely move.
Their movements are forced,
by the showers of tears, and expeditious winds.
The heart ache is stable.
Yet will eventually go numb,
nothing will ever be able to cause the same immense pain.
The guards rise up,
neglecting connections.
Flirt.
Smile.
Fake it until you make it.
You will hear the crowds telling us over and over,
"It WILL be ok".
I'm here to tell you it won't.
Never.
So, find useless distractions.
