Cut me loose like a parachute tandem. Fall towards home one second at a time. Co2 backups and a breathing apparatus. I'd choke you with both just to hit the ground true. Call the paramedics. They'll recognize the fracture line, and finally someone will ask how bad the pain is.
They'll study my heart up and down and tell you that they've never seen one quite this bad. If you want they'll offer to wrap it for you. All the while warning that a splint won’t stick, that a cast won’t remain, and that a band-aid will come unglued.
The only way to heal your own heart you'll find is to keep loving until one loves you back. Until then, write down every single way you loved the one that you thought you knew... love yourself in that same way.
Call it even or call it quits. You're such an assurance closer. You've got a sweet tooth for revenge and I can only hope that it pulls your jawline back. Handshakes are just clasped high fives, like the difference between I care and I'm not really interested. Either way, it's such an awkward disposition for us.
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We will forever be a community of writers asking you to fall in (love) or be taken (hostage.) We only want to make you smile, and encourage you to pick up the pen, or start using those fingers on your keyboard!
