I broke my own heart
just to see what color it would bleed,
how the cracks would travel,
tiny faultlines in the middle of a girl,
and around them, how she quaked.

Sometimes, I am surprised to find myself whole,
shaken, but complete, all of the pieces
of me coming back to rest
in their original configurations,
locked together in their rejoicing
at finding each other again.

I broke my own heart,
when I allowed it to love you,
but it knew something, even then,
that would astonish me when I learned it:
you are not the end of me.
You are not even the beginning.
There's a world inside
that you know nothing about
and it never needed you to keep existing.

11/07/2010

Posted on 11/07/2010
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