My heart is shattered, broken like thin sheets of glass.
The shards are so sharp that they cut me open.
I bleed; but I do not bleed blood, I bleed pain. At first, it’s a gush.
I know it will turn to an ooze at some point.
I don’t know if I await this eagerly or with dread.
Once the gush recedes, I am left with this overwhelming loneliness.
Loneliness and numbness have been my best friends, but I also hate them.
I hate them because they don’t help. They don’t pick up the pieces.
And truth be told, no one ever will.