We are all broken.

Picked apart by love and devotion.

We are all broken.

Shattered by the reality of the world, that time does not wait for all. For any.

We are all broken.

Held together, bound by these words. Encased in glass, on display.

We are all broken.

Though we manage to glue ourselves back together, desperately hoping we match the original structure of our once pure hearts. Before we kissed disaster. Before we made love to the chaos of our souls.

We are all broken, picked apart... Leaving our pieces on the ground for others to try and place within themselves.

Calling it love. Calling it whatever makes the cracks less visible. 

I am broken, and still I love these pieces scattered across the ground. Do you?

She always told me that I could take a knife to her heart and still, her last words would be

"I love you."

So I thought to test it out.

One night, I took a knife from the kitchen hiding it behind my back. I grabbed her waist and kissed her while gliding the knife up her arm towards her chest. To both our surprise a small cut appeared right below her collarbone as I moved quickly towards her heart. She yelped in surprise and stared at me wide eyed in horror. But the blood fascinated me, I could not bother to hear her screams or feel her struggle. Surprisingly, it was harder than I thought it would be. Plunging the knife through her skin, past her rib cage and into the soft mass of her heart. The blood dripped from the blade onto my knuckles... Spilling onto the floor. 

Though, she didn't say I love you.

She didn't say anything at all.

I saw the light go out of her eyes.

Maybe I had done it wrong... 

Love like his, consumed.

It took up residence in the mind.

Settled its way deep into the bones.

Left one... Addicted.

And so, she took him in like air.

Devoured his words,

She consumed his everything to the point of no return.

She left nothing of herself to thrive on.

So when he fled, he left the skeleton of a girl behind.

There's a flower in my heart that pricks me when I start to love.

To remind me

Of you.

Yes the flower you told me to wear proudly is still entangled in my ribcage.

Though now the petals no longer trace their form against my heart. Instead the thorns slash at me.

To remind me

Of you.

The rose you offered me. Now stained a darker shade of red.

To remind me

Of you.

To love is a blessing. But to be loved by you is what no one dares to write about. It's what my mother did not warn against. So yes, I still wear your flower. No longer proudly. No longer do I become entranced by it's fragrance or smile at it's presence.

It is wilted, dying.

To remind me

Of you.

What do we hear?

"You couldn't give me one thing today, could you? I've tried, so fucking hard. I've tried for far too long. Do you want me to crack? Is that it. Are you ready for this distorted model to finally come apart at the seams?"

A whisper, hoping for an answer never received.

What do we hear?

A woman, speaking to some higher being she is not certain she believes in anymore. We hear a mother crying for her lost baby. We hear a gun cocking and resting against a man's temple. We hear broken glass and crude obscenity.

What do we hear?

A writers pen scratching against paper, desperately trying to find the words to free his disgruntled soul from the chains of his own oppression. We hear a boy, praying for forgiveness for sins he cannot bare to admit aloud. We hear a young couple's silence as their love drips out from their core and through the cracks in the wood. We can hear the red essence of their love pooling underground. There is no longer hope for them.

What do we hear?

Everything.

You no longer visit my dreams. Your smell does not cling to the sheets. My lips no longer crave to mold against yours.

I've realized a love like ours was never meant to flourish. It was only to dissipate once the light sought us out from hiding. I understand now your shade of blue was only meant to turn my purple black.

I do hope this letter finds you in time, before you destroy another in your quest for redemption. You must know by now, there can be no salvation in the love you seek. I beg you not to look for someone to love if you mean for them to wash you clean while becoming tainted by your luster.

You seek love that will save you. But darling, Love cannot save all things.

Signed,

I Hope You Find Peace.