where does it stop and where does it begin, i think i missed my bus-stop to nowhere

i gave you something fragile.

my heart, 
all wrapped up in tissue paper and beating at a lethargic pace like a syrupy sunset, 
flooding colors and faded imprints of lungs on the sides

i tucked it into your hands at night
when we were sleeping 
trusting you enough to hold it tight and never let go

and you held on too hard
cracked it 
shattered it

i said it was okay. 

i told you i didn't mind 
doused my broken pieces in glue and pressed it back together as best i could 
a split-apart mess of shards

and i promised you i would not hold a grudge for a broken heart 

but i did

so i pried it out of your hands when you weren't looking 
gaped my ribcage wide open enough for my body to swallow it 
pushed it far enough in that it didn't quake so much

and it hurts 
a broken heart scraping the edges of my being
painful in its containment 

you hold air and dust and tears
never noticing the way the tissue paper is empty and light 
you assume my heart never weighed that much in the first place

but my heart is the heaviest it's ever been 
weighed down thickly by dark days and solemn moons
when the clouds call judgement on justice
and the sinks all wash red to white

so i, 
i with my broken heart 
and i with my burden to carry

sits to look at the stars made dull by city reaches 
and turned to pinpricks flickering in and out of existence
quelled by the flame of the sun 
absorbing all the ricocheting hollowness of the night

because i figure i can make myself a cavern 
carve out the hurt and replace it with nothing 

because i figure, 
no heart at all must hurt less than a broken one. 

The End

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