i crack open
like some kind of piñata,
crumbling on the floor
leaking hurt,
dependance;
the desire for her to be
someone she cannot.

dressing myself in streamers
yet naked to the core

a sickly sweet ache
drips down my esophagus
coating my throat until there is no room
for forgiveness;
of her,
but also myself.

the saddest shade of irony:
demolished by the same hands
that once promised healing

this pity party is over.