I've attempted to hide the fact that I'm suffering from a broken heart.
During these periods of creating work, though, I would never disguise that.
With this poetry, I promised myself that I would always be the true me.
And on nights like these, I'm particularly aware of the pain.
I'm taking a step ahead in my healing, yet I'm feeling stifled.
I'm constantly worried that I'll be attacked.
Malicious intent no longer surprises me.
The honorable percent, on the other hand, has shocked me.
It's becoming increasingly difficult for me to place my trust in others.
It's hard to trust folks when they're the ones who broke my heart.
I'm looking for deep, meaningful friendships.
But I can't manage to discover people who are worthy of my expressions or who are eager to participate in them.
I'm constantly replaying these exchanges in my thoughts.
When I say things out loud, I get the impression that no one is listening.
I suppose I'm sick of being my own friend.
I'd like to give this loneliness a name.