Your broken parts are jagged, —

I cut myself when I was trying to gather them

And match them to mine.

Over and over, I bled bright scarlet onto your shattered China,

Until I created something halfway decent

And stopped to admire what I'd done.


I found a way to make it all fit

As if the Almighty had put us together like puzzles, —

I could have lied

Proudly stated how nicely

My sorrows played with yours.


But, my dearest,

That isn't the way

The man pulling the strings

Wanted this to work.

Our hearts never make the same clean breaks as our bones, —

We were built to spill our vulnerability for all to see

Hearts made ultra-sensitive

So that we'd always be sure to feel the pain.


Love's a bleeding thing, you see, —

We're all too likely to bite the hand that caresses us

Take a blade to the back we promised to stay behind

Highlight the worst words to come from the same mouths that we've kissed

As long as we get to see that same result.


Passion is not a selfless creature, —

It's an untamed beast

Taking delight in the heady lust of treachery

Finding romance in the primal notion:

If I bleed

You will, too.


Love is not for those without will

Or those who can not part

With certain parts of themselves

That will certainly be drained

By the vampire of devotion.


Love is for the well-meaning naïve

Much like myself

But, be warned,

Even those who wait on the suffering hand and foot

Are not selfless

Nor innocent.


Affection can be just as carnal a need

As a lust for blood.

It is a hunger

That might someday destroy me.

Until then

Here I will stay

Jagged bits of porcelain heart in my hands

Until I lick my own lifeblood from my skin

Blindly hoping that, this time,

The thirst might be sated.