the clock started at 12
and for every boy who
broke her heart
the hour hand moved
for every crack
the minute hand moved
and for every cry
the second hand
12 o' clock
whole lot of hope
1 o' clock
hope
2 o' clock
tired hope
3 o' clock
skinny hope
4 o' clock
sadness
5 o' clock
self doubt
6 o' clock
defeat
it was 7 o' clock
and for the next 6 hours
she broke her own heart
because she forgot
how else to handle it
and how it was supposed to be handled.
11 o' clock
numbness
the second hand strikes 12 and
with it
her heartstrings snap
worn out and tired
and her heartbeats fade out
rhythm-less and old
good night.
YOU ARE READING
between the lines
Poetryfalling asleep to the sound of broken promises and to the smell of toxicity
