not broken
Apr. 11th, 2011 04:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Dear muse,
The following does not make up for not visiting in ages nor does it make up for visiting long enough to make me think of something, but not so long that I had time to write it down. *sigh*
It’s funny, but I thought that the phrase “my heart is broken” was always pretty self explanatory. It got the idea across and everyone could relate, even if your heart hadn’t been broken yet. You could imagine what it would feel like until it was your turn and then you would know for sure and there you had it. It was simply one of those phrases that made sense, unless you were particularly literal.
That was then.
My heart is not broken. It hasn’t been smashed to pieces and then ground into dust under your indifferent heel. There has been no ripping out of this most vital of organs, there’s no blood leaking from my chest, and your hands are still clean.
My heart is not broken. It is not a piece of glass that has fallen on the floor, shards cutting me into ribbons with every step.
My heart is not broken. It has simply ceased to be. Where I once felt something, anything, all I feel is an absence, an emptiness that I can’t fully explain. Things that hurt before, the last time we did this dance, simply feel as if they should hurt. It’s not shock, I know this much, but that’s about all I know.
My heart is not broken. I don’t feel the need to cry when I remember the way your face lit up at a fantastic joke. I don’t choke up when casually discussing some part of my life that you were either a part of or should have been, if our plans had actually worked out the way I wanted them to. My friends can say your name, they can discuss something you said three nights ago, and I feel nothing at all.
My heart is not broken.
But I wish it was.
The following does not make up for not visiting in ages nor does it make up for visiting long enough to make me think of something, but not so long that I had time to write it down. *sigh*
It’s funny, but I thought that the phrase “my heart is broken” was always pretty self explanatory. It got the idea across and everyone could relate, even if your heart hadn’t been broken yet. You could imagine what it would feel like until it was your turn and then you would know for sure and there you had it. It was simply one of those phrases that made sense, unless you were particularly literal.
That was then.
My heart is not broken. It hasn’t been smashed to pieces and then ground into dust under your indifferent heel. There has been no ripping out of this most vital of organs, there’s no blood leaking from my chest, and your hands are still clean.
My heart is not broken. It is not a piece of glass that has fallen on the floor, shards cutting me into ribbons with every step.
My heart is not broken. It has simply ceased to be. Where I once felt something, anything, all I feel is an absence, an emptiness that I can’t fully explain. Things that hurt before, the last time we did this dance, simply feel as if they should hurt. It’s not shock, I know this much, but that’s about all I know.
My heart is not broken. I don’t feel the need to cry when I remember the way your face lit up at a fantastic joke. I don’t choke up when casually discussing some part of my life that you were either a part of or should have been, if our plans had actually worked out the way I wanted them to. My friends can say your name, they can discuss something you said three nights ago, and I feel nothing at all.
My heart is not broken.
But I wish it was.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-11 09:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-11 09:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-14 05:08 am (UTC)heh. Well actually, it's spring so they're spazzing out, meowing at the door constantly and driving me crazy. But at least they're all pretty much getting along, even with the new one thrown into the mix. I was hoping to find my dolly nazi hat to do a pic, but since I haven't messed with the dolls in ages, no clue where it's at.
How are you doing?