No. More.

A cavern.

No.
Bigger.

A canyon
cracked its way
through my chest,
and it cut my heart
in half.

Or maybe smaller.

It bulldozed,
slaughtered my heart,
crumbled it
into a million particles,
and it drug them
across my body
and out into the air.

Now I am holes.

No.
Emptier.

Black holes
of forgotten matter,
tangled timezones
mixed with endless space
where my heart used to be.

You broke me.

No.
Shattered me,

and the shards
keep slicing
through my skin
when I try to fit them
together.

I need to be fixed.

No.
Healed.
Mended.
Not fixed.

It’s too late
for bandaids.

~Patience

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