In the past two years, it seems that I've had my heart
broken one too many times. By ones that are just a given. By ones I let walk in
and tear it to pieces. And by ones that were just dancing around its stings and
got tangled and tripped. And I’m
supposed to learn something from it every time, so I’m told. But sometimes I
just feel like letting it be. Not all things that are broken are meant to be
fixed? I mean, I’m not going to be able to just walk away from the hurt, or
forget who broke into my chest and played around with how I feel.
You
might see your damage as less than what you “prevented” but in all honesty,
yours is worse. There is a reason I kept it all tucked away, why it hides
behind locked bars of bone. You, we,
have the same blood running through it. We are the singular most connected
people to each other, but if you ask me, we are the singular most disconnected
people from each other.
Apologies sing like hymns that are recited without meaning.
They don’t run conscious, they run pretentious.
My strength runs from the broken pieces of me that leak all
over.
Sometimes I think my
soul is in the wrong place.
So please do excuse me if my words run sideways, and my
thoughts are a little too narrow, because I’ve been down this road before. Your
words like constellations in the sky disappear with the light, and I’m tired of
living in the dark.
I’ll be waiting by the lake where soft whispers like
lullabies can sing me home.
