LITERAL REMAINS

I Am Breaking

There’s no sound in the humdrum-
I’m as good as blind,
as good as deaf and dumb.
I want to make more mistakes,
but if those choices should become
happiness, then it would undo
everything I have ever done.

My black heart blots out the sky,
it obliterates any notion
that I might still be alive.
I catalogue all the parts of me
that have died, and I recognize
how I keep them all bound
to keep me anesthetized.

I would rather bury my
dried brush than let them
near your spark, for fear
the fire would singe your
soul, and leave your
nature scarred and marked.
I’d rather you be happy
with someone else than for
me to make you distraught.
In mending you, protecting you,
I am willing to break my own
heart.