The Explanation of Dealing With a Broken Heart

The first betrayal felt like nothing more than a paper cut.

“Put a bandaid on it, you’ll be fine.” My mother told me.

The second betrayal is like having an anxiety attack

You can’t breathe and you feel really sick to your stomach.

“Take some pepto” My friend told me. “I promise you’re okay.”

Having a broken heart is like being smashed into a million pieces!

They say, now you’re being too dramatic

Maybe! But I’m not being unrealistic.

People say they know how to live through it.

People say that the way they’re doing it will help

And prepare you for the next one

But I don’t even understand how to prepare myself

To prepare myself for the next one.

He! Was the only one who made me happy!

He! Was the only one I trusted!

He! Is the only one that could fill the empty void in my chest

And when He! Isn’t there

It feels like these strong hands are squeezing my arteries

Until they pop…

That’s when I realize I’m having a panic attack

So I hold my breath until the air in my lungs is about to escape.

I still can’t get him out of my head

So I go into the bathroom and cut my wrists

They say now you’re just looking for attention

No I’m not! I am doing this because I want to feel better!

I’m doing this because I see your scars and you look fine!

You look like you’re moving on okay!

And I want that!

They say maybe you shouldn’t take advice from us.

They say take this needle and thread and

Stitch up every wound that you have ever received.

But I have so many that I’ll run out of string

They say then we’ll buy you more

Because we’re here for you.

They say that because they know what I am going through

But I don’t think that’s completely accurate

Because, you’re not me!

You don’t know what’s going through my head

You don’t know! What is happening in my life!

Behind closed doors.

You don’t know that every single day that

I see a bad comment about me on social media,

I am slowly transforming into glass

That is not indestructible

You don’t know that I don’t want to kill myself

But if I were to get hit by a car and die

I really wouldn’t care

“You’re a just a toy for my own pleasure”

He told me before kicking me out of his car

On a street corner like I am a prostitute.

I know his message was that I was created

As something no more important than a sex toy

You can buy at spencers.

At first I was sad which I turned into anger

And I poured my anger out on social media

On my family! On my friends! And on myself.

And I am writing this to tell him

That he did this to me.

I want him to feel ashamed

And I am no longer afraid of you!

I am standing up to you finally!

I am not just a toy for your pleasure!

You are not allowed to make me feel sad about who I am

And I will no longer be turned into glass

I am whole and I am stone

And I will not break because you fulfilled

Your pathetic goals

I don’t need your heart felt texts

Because now I know they’re never going to be true

I don’t need you to make me feel better

And I will fucking heal on my own!

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
Me

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