a broken and a contrite heart.

Every time I leave
a room you’re in,
a little piece of me
gets left behind.

You’re running me through a net
and your net has lots of holes
but it’s still a net.

And I end up wandering
dark streets.
Looking for myself in the reflection of polished glass,
mirrored brown puddles,
oily slicks,
and my own troubled hands.

This is something I don’t say to anyone.
But if you look carefully
you can see it in the black behind my eyes,
in the creased folds when my face breaks
into smile,
on my furrowed brow when I am elsewhere,
in my slightly parted lips and breathless whisperings:

I still love you.


10 thoughts on “a broken and a contrite heart.

  1. what happens when you’re not in love anymore, and really, you don’t want to even see the one who you loved, but your heartache is still obvious in every crease and crevice of your face? and you don’t believe you can ever love again because it sucked so bad to lose it the first time?

    that’s where I’m at…

  2. Boo. Poor you.
    I hope that doesn’t happen to me.
    That’d be well bad.
    I’m the opposite of you. I need
    to get back in there, talk to people, have fun.
    Or else I’ll go insane.

    Yeah. I’m working on distance.
    Some days I’m up and some I’m down.
    Just trying not to focus on it.

    I wish you all the care and love I can.
    Get well soon.
    I deffinitely see why they say ‘lovesick’.
    It fits.

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