Destruction and Reconstruction
Am I forced to watch you leave again?
My hand is left holding empty air
hadn’t I just held you as we walked?
And now, there is need for repair.
For there is a stitch in my heartbeat,
it snags on something in my chest
another broken piece of myself
left trapped inside my breast.
You took the photo; I got the empty frame,
left me to sift through the debris
couldn’t you try to say more carefully
that you no longer needed me?
The glass that’s on the floor
is the aftermath of our destruction?
It mirrors the repairs to be had on the inside
as the heart attempts reconstruction.
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