Every time my heart is broken, I imagine a small hole being pierced into it.
At one point the holes were tiny and barely noticeable
They would hurt for a couple hours, but then I'd go back to playing with my barbies again.
As I grew older , the toxic smoke became thicker, the holes grew.
Pin pricks, became gun shots
The hours became days and weeks
And the tiny drops of blood became rivers.
Now my heart is littered with bleeding wounds that refuse to heal.
Sharp painful waves hit me randomly, and sting for weeks
