confetti heart

You’ve been punching holes through my

Paper heart

Expecting me to stand up to your

Perforating fists.

But I’d rather just lie down now,

Patch up these holes

While you use the remnants of my pain

As confetti to celebrate your victory.

No, I don’t want to talk.

I feel more like running.

And crashing.

And orchestrating a funeral

For another attempt’s obvious misfortune.

I feel like I should still keep making

Dinners for two

And set your place at the table

To keep myself from losing hope.

But I’m growing so tired of trying to convince you

Of what I believe.

The love I hope for is as foolish as any other

Fairy tale figure

Or imaginary friend.

I have to kill it in your presence

So I don’t feel like a fool,

And then dream of it as my eyes close every night.

Julytwentyeighthtwothousandandnine