Walking around with a broken heart

There is not much to say

Except the throat promises to burst any moment

And the chest, it’s still figuring out what to do

With all the space

Now that the heart is recoiling and shrinking

Hugging itself in the warm shower

The pretense of being loved

Despite the prickly broken-ness

The lie of laughing a little too loudly

Hoping someone will understand

That the damn joke is just not funny

Walking around with a broken heart

Like carrying your severed arms in your mouth

Dragging your broken legs in the burning sun

Punctures, wounds that keep spilling

The pain drips like water from a cracked drain

Picking it up in glasses, you have a bag full of hurt

Trying to clean up after

the bleeding ruptures of your broken heart.