Stay Here With Me

2014-01-20

Pick them up
All of you, pick them up.
Pick up the pieces of the heart I once carried,
the shards of bruised anchors weighing heavily

And carry them with you always,
I don't want them back.

Let me carry the sin of a carved out rib cage,
with a black hole of hatred waiting to explode inside.
Don't try and piece me together,
because I'm not as broken as I look.

A broken heart is a wound that is not a burden:
it only means that the heart can be shared easier
and that I don't have to face my fears alone

Carry the fragments of my heart with you always,
let me kill the ever-aching loneliness for the first time
by trusting all of you not to hold the pieces of my heart,
the bond we share, and crush them with your loving hands

Because should the final shard break,
the final bond severed, I'd have already reached oblivion,
and with this hole of dense hatred oozing out constantly
I'm too unclean to reach a catharsis on my own

So stay here with me, okay?