Self-broken Heart

Help me

Fix my self-broken heart.

My heart is broken over Him. But he didn’t break it.

I broke my own heart over

him. So fascinating–

and bittersweet that he is the only one I want to share all of

my thought-feelings with.

The heartbreaking cycle continues

daily.

May be that this is some

insight into my ‘habits’ and I daily

break my own heart

in my sub-average life.

I’m going to need someone to assist in the mending of my own heart.

Someone re-wire my heart.

Take the needle and thread and stitch it back together again.

Leaving no scar.

Or, if a scar is inevitable, make it tiny.

A tiny scar. I don’t want to look at a big one.

Nothing with a face. Nothing big enough to take a shape.

Nothing to remind me of how easy it is to rip out the tight threads and let myself

bleed out.

all over the floor.

like a river. like a fountain. like the Old Faithful I am not.

except in the timing of my own demise

each day.

like clockwork.

out come the stitches. the thread of a new hue is stained with my blood.

I prefer to see that. because it is pain made visible. A pain I see and forget

to feel.

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About heathencomehome

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