the way you broke my heart was brutal, it wasn’t poetic. there’s nothing poetic about screaming into your pillow in the middle of the night or finding comfort in the round mouth of a bottle or crying so hard you can’t see; there was nothing poetic about my heart after you left.
before you i was carefree and i was never going to fall in love. but you came into my life and you convinced me to trust you, and so i did. i trusted you and i believed every “i love you,” every “i’m not leaving,” every god damn promise. you were supposed to be here, so where are you?
the ringing in my ears hasn’t stopped since you packed your bags, and the bleeding in my chest happens too often. it feels like it’s been forever and i’m scared to forget the sound of your voice.
— they say that heartache fuels a writer, but since you left it’s been hard to breathe, much less pick up a pen