You left.
Packed up your bags and walked away.
Forget about ripping a hole through my heart,
You took the whole damn thing with you.
I bet you haven't even unpacked yet.
If I wanted to, I'm sure I'd find your suitcase in a dusty corner of the attic -
My still-beating heart inside,
Haphazardly wrapped in tissues;
Sitting in between the crumpled love letters and unwanted memories.
Is this what keeps you up at night?
On the days you can't sleep,
Do you stare at the ceiling,
Listening to 3am symphonies no one else can hear?
You haven't even unpacked yet.
Maybe one day you will.
Maybe one day you'll open up the suitcase,
Throw my heart into a plastic bag
And drop it off on my doorstep with a sticky note:
Found something of yours. Thought you might want it back.
Maybe one day you'll unpack.
But until then,
There's a hole in my chest that's still pouring blood.
It's okay though,
Because beauty is pain,
And now I can paint words in the prettiest shade of red
At the end of the day,
This is love
Love is an insomniac and a broken girl and a lonely heart beating in the darkness
Love is red poetry
