A frequent thing.

The broken I cannot mend and the lost I cannot save because I, myself have been crushed on the harsh floors of reality and all that's left of me are shattered pieces. I've exhausted my courage and yet still indebted to fear; stoutly it builds within these skin pores. Beneath these decent exteriors lies my shattered self. They deny me peace and wreak havoc. I lay awake in the middle of the night and my mind wanders through the different cities created by my memories. I'm broken but beautiful and I'm at peace.
I heard my heart pulsate as your words left your lips. I never understood how you could have such an effect on me. Your lips bleed joy and they mend me, they fix me with linings of unfamiliar emotions.
January washed away the bleeding walls of my heart. They'd been pierced with needles and left for dead. I was drowning in pool of my own actions and decisions. I should have known better. I should have know not to trust a stranger with my emotions. I feel clean, I'm relieved.
I see myself in the invisible mirrors that your words have created. They reflect bitterness, bruises and gatherings of despair. I'm exhausted like burned out bulb; a reminder of the demons I carry inside. They lurk in the shadows, in the walls raining torrents of torment in my veins. My heart thumps beneath the frames of my chest; it is the sound of chaos. In hindsight, I'm flawed in my understanding of their fixation and how to heal the lingering brokenness within. The shadows betray me. They've left me to die at the hands of your words; words scratching their way through the walls with their poisonous fingertips. All that I am now reduced to ashes as embers of distress fill up my lungs with a dark smoke of depression. They yap at me from the low lying depths of my dying soul