It's strange how creative
We become when our hearts
Have been broken;
Splintered and smashed open,
Blood spilling and slowly
Becoming ink.
Spreading across the page
And telling it's story.

I knew.
I knew it from the second she opened her door, her boots in my hand, not even knowing who she was.
I knew I was in love. I knew she was in love.
Both scared to admit it, but we were.
I knew we wouldn't last.
She would have to be the one to end it.
She was going to have to break my heart.
And it couldn't be a clean break.
No, no that wouldn't work.
My love was too strong.
I was prepared to put up a fight.
I knew she was going to have to smash it, burn it, then forget it in the rain.
And even then, I'd still want her.
I knew I would.
There was nothing she could do to make the pain stronger than the love.
I knew there was no end.
Right when she opened the door.
I knew.

my face smashed against the concrete
when you kicked me from your
life; i'm still picking jagged stones
from the spaces between my
teeth. because of this,

i don't smile
anymore.