All is well with love and war

I think long ago there was someone in my life who used up all of my compassion. Someone I loved very deeply who abused me, over and over again. I mean it. Over and over again. God, I had been abused before. I had. By lovers and friends but this one was so.. different. This one has left an imprint on me that has taken all of my... softness away. Everything that made me loving and kind, and sweet. I have no desire to get back to being that person. I am not loving or kind, or forgiving, or sweet. I do not care about your life. I don't want to know you. I want to be left alone.

There is heart break where my heart should be. A crack in the valves. I used to think I would get over it, the way it was split in half over and over again. I’d just put it back together, pat it on its back, and keep walking. Head held high, even while it was bleeding in between the lines of my chest. The crimson wanted to come out of my skin to remind me that I could still bleed something good, something beautiful, but I shoved it down. I patched it up. I took all my breakage, all my blood, all my heartbreak and I ate it. Swallowed it whole so it couldn’t come out of my chest again. But this time, it clawed at my stomach. It wanted out of my throat and to be turned into words. I couldn’t stop the bleeding. It became words.