The worst of it is
when you're alone at 3 in the morning
and it's quiet.
You're by yourself,
no need to hold it together,
but you still won't cry.
You could cry. Sweet ******,
you could shed a river to rival the Mississippi, and no one would be the wiser.
You're alone.
No one is there to judge you
but you still won't
because there is you to deal with,
and you don't want to appear weak
even to yourself.
The makeshift levee keeping you're mind
intact is about ready to break,
it's overflowing.
The pressure is high, and you're holding this
unstable structure together with ducktape
and plugging in the cracks with chewed up bubble gum.
It's hopeless,
my dear,
this levee, but it'll hold another night.
For now, you stare at the ceiling
and count the seconds between heartbeats,
reminding yourself that you're not imaginary.
Very much present in this farce reality.
The gears keep turning, and there's a gremlin in your ear whispering godless things,
And for years you were far too naive
to tell him to shhh, shut up
and get your *** in the corner.
Naive ******,
the mind is as shattered
as your pulp of a heart.
Poor, pitiful ******.
You never could put yourself back together again
now, could you?
Do you know
what hurts worse
than a broken heart?
Not remembering
what it was like before.
How whole you feel.
My ******,
that hearts been
broken so long
I doubt
you could remember
a time when it wasn't.
How long my sweet ******
tried to repair it
so many times
but it just keeps breaking.
All shattered to bits.
There's hardly anything left now to fix.
My broken ******,
the reflection of
my most sacred regrets.
Young ******,
though I tried
to right the wrong,
I failed you.
I never wanted you
to become so hollow.
My empty ****** doll,
you were damaged
beyond repair.
My ******,
We fix the bruised.
Not the broken
