With every broken heart
I find myself
scouring the past
searching
for some clue, sign, pattern
of failure.

Can I find a rhythm
among the voicemails
and unanswered calls?

Do the stifled tears and sobs,
collected from various midnights,
carry a tune?

Is there some kind of code
among the bruises and scars
scattered across my soul?

Is there any hope that
all the falling and failing and breaking
is their faults
and not mine?