Fuck love. 


I Am Living Of A Broken Heart

I am riddled with guilt.

I said, No more. And that should have been the end of it. 

But I fluttered here and there with quiet steps. 

I pranced around in the dead of night ever so quietly. 

But in my wake, left gaudy hand prints like the orange stains after a bag of Cheetos. 

You disappeared. You abused me. You turned me down. 

But you took me in. You held my hand. You loved me. 

I let it in and soaked it up and waded in that quiet water. 

But now I am riddled with guilt. 

Everything I Touch Turns To Discontentment

I keep trying to look back, way back in my past, desperately searching for the moment that would decide all of this. Was it something someone said? Was it something someone did? Was it something I said or did? Was it just one single event or a succession of them that would shape my heart and mind? I want to find it. I know I won’t be able to change it or make it go away. But I hope that it would help me understand. Because I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know how to recover from all the damage I have done.