WILD HEARTS CAN'T BE BROKEN

About

I was never the girl who could attach herself, a barnacle to the bottom of some ship sunk at sea, to anything long enough to take a breath and breathe.

But I did.

I was never the girl who was breakable, like some glass marionette, circling inside of a child’s music box.

But I metamorphosed.

Remind me of the days that came after us
The million little pin points of colored light that painted a picture of the loneliest months of my life.

Remind me of what happened to me, alone.

I would awake in the night, whispering your name through feverish nightmare.

My hands reached under sheets, searching for something, anything to hold onto for some smidgen of warmth.

I’d come up cold.

I would be searching, unsure of what I was going to find, and I’d see your face, frozen in some old happy photograph.

My heart would buck like some wild horse, attempting to free itself of the chains of your painful memory.

I’d stay imprisoned.

I would walk through the halls of my daily routine, and I’d see the golden brown of the back of your head.

My legs would quickly retreat but my eyes would stay locked on you like a submarine in battle, scanning and picking you out, a solemn green dot on the screen.

I’d sink.