Chronicles of a Broken Heart

A series of poems and thoughts written over the course of a relationship. They are a person’s chronicles of their broken heart.

Noose

Noose

When I looked at your face, I saw my world

I wanted to know everything about you,

All the oceans and lands I could explore

But at the time I truly didn't know the meaning of, "the World is a cruel place."

The promises you made me

Were pushed aside

To you they were merely words you used to get me on your side

Instead, you found new words to tell me;

you said "sorry" for every time you made a mistake, as if my wounds would heal at the sound of a two syllable lie

you said "i'm fine" for every time I asked you if you were okay, because I was worried that I did something wrong

If you weren't talking to me, I was telling myself it was my fault

And if I wasn't talking to you, you were telling me the same

Everything was a blame that I should take

Everything that I told myself was wrong,

Had to be right for you

And I forced myself to think it was right

Just so you'd be satisfied

I was just afraid of you leaving me

I drank your love potion,

Ignoring the poison label

I held your hand so lovingly,

Ignoring the chains you put around my wrists

I let your hands do what they wanted to me,

Ignoring the puppet strings you attached to my body

I know I'm not beautiful, I know I don't have the perfect body

But why did you always have to remind me, when my mirror does it often enough?

Even when I was given the opportunity to let go,

I held on

Dumb and in love

But I didn't want any regrets

I imagined that one day, my hand delicately in yours, you'd put a ring on my finger

I imagined that one day, your head next to mine, we'd lie in bed at night and laugh about something that happened that day

I imagined that one day, your hand in my hair, you'd kiss me like you'll never let me go

Back

Looking at the palm of your hands

is like looking at the cracks of a flat, dry terrain

My fingers can carve out every line like a map that leads...

where?

It seems I am lost

For all I can do is stare at your beauty

Until I am unaware of what surrounds me

I am unaware that there's no way out of this broken landscape

Where the sun only shines sometimes,

And there is no total perfection

I am so lost; but there is nothing I mind about being lost

Instead,

I follow the lines of the map I have created, touching the surface of the ground

It is what I feel when my fingers brush the skin under your eyes

My own hands are not dry or cracked

They are soft and moist, they are what your flawed terrain needs in no way

But when they hold your hands, the cracks of the terrain fill with water

The rivers are alive

Flowers grow, the wind whistles, and the sun is as bright as your eyes when you laugh

I follow the map until finally, the lines of my hand and yours are aligned

Together, we can get a little closer to perfection

Thread

We are back, but we are apart. My heart is somewhat lighter, but denser than ever. It seems we are being held together by a thin string, a thread that is going to rip at any second. When will the weaving begin, when we work our way around each other to finally find where our hearts are? Doubts still fill my mind, but I can’t help it. I’m afraid. The needle isn’t big enough to hold the thread; it isn’t sharp enough to cut through the tension and bring clarity to us. To me. I wonder: are you worried? Do you see the thread? Do you see me? Or do you see nothing deeper than what surrounds you when your mind is sober?