There is beauty in breaking down
and putting yourself back together,
but picking up the pieces is hard
when you've misplaced so many of them.
The thing about heartbreak is that
it's not a one time thing.
No, it can happen over and over again,
each time being more painful than the last.
It's hard to find the silver lining
when disappointment is your oldest friend.
No, I can't find the silver lining
because there are too many lines on my wrists,
and I have fallen apart and put myself back together
s o  m a n y  t i m e s
that it's not even beautiful or poetic or courageous.
It's just sad.
I find too much comfort in voices that aren't my own
and in arms that aren't mine.
I'd sleep in a stranger's bed if it meant
I didn't have to sleep alone,
and even with my head on your chest,
listening to your sleepy heartbeat, I still feel lonely.
Yes, I know how to pick up the pieces,
but my heart is made of glass
and my hands are covered in scrapes.
Nothing worth having ever comes easy,
but I'm so **** tired, and my hands are sore,
and I've picked up the pieces
s o  m a n y  t i m e s
that I don't think I can do it again.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.