notes

my bones broke when i ripped the page

and your mother stopped calling when you were

nothing but fine.

you were

anything but fine.

big hearts break into small pieces.

and her lips said love

and her hips said sin

and i know i can't be unbroken

and i know i can't take back the words i've thrown from my tongue,

even if i wanted to,

even when they shattered against you

and you

and you

and you

like a glass bottle shatters against brick

and i lied to myself when i said that i was strong.

because broken glass cuts.

it always has.

it always will.

and i warn myself away

and i keep my own secrets

for now.

and i watched my hands,

two at the top

the right drops

the white splits

half stuck on the left

half escaped to the right

that flutters down

and the "in" falls

on the fault line

and the "er" stays

between the satin covers.

so, slip your fingers between mine, love,

and cry for me when i can't myself

because my bones broke when i ripped the page,

and my eyes stayed dry.

my bones broke when i ripped the page

and i watched as white turned to grey.

let the tears carve tracks to your throat, dear,

because my bones broke when i ripped the page,

and i'd be lying if i said i wouldn't do it again.

cry like a firestorm, love,

cry,

because big hearts break into small pieces,

just like everything else.


--erin