the clock started at 12
and for every boy who
broke her heart
the hour hand movedfor every crack
the minute hand movedand for every cry
the second hand12 o' clock
whole lot of hope1 o' clock
hope2 o' clock
tired hope3 o' clock
skinny hope4 o' clock
sadness5 o' clock
self doubt6 o' clock
defeatit 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
numbnessthe second hand strikes 12 and
with it
her heartstrings snap
worn out and tired
and her heartbeats fade out
rhythm-less and oldgood night.
YOU ARE READING
between the lines
Poetryfalling asleep to the sound of broken promises and to the smell of toxicity