Heartbreak

I wrote a book.

Called it Heartbreak Hotel.

Little did I know I was circumventing my true self.

Hadn't let myself feel it.

Couldn't let myself see it

Because it hurt too much. It felt like a gaping hole in my chest.

Like someone reached in, grabbed my flesh, my bones, my arteries, my soul...

Wiped it away. Didn't rip it out, simply removed it. Vanished.

A swipe.

Wiped.

Nothing like I had felt before.

And to think you didn't feel the same.

To think that deep feeling, rooted in me was not to be.

To think it only existed in me

Hurt.

How deep it ran, but how muted my senses were.

To love and not feel it. To be loved and not feel it.

One of the worst feelings to experience.

To want to reach out but be blocked.

To want to be touched but be shocked when done so.

To not be able to express yourself like you want to.

To watch yourself slowly fade away and watch how it brings her down.

To know you are a weight, a burden. To not be able to float to the top and grasp.

And yell, and know: love is more than just a feeling.

I love you is more than just a feeling.

To succumb.

To be numb.

To have your vision distorted by an invisible force.

It hurts.

A gaping hole in my chest.

To be covered by saranwrap

Covered but not filled.

A gulf.

A gulf.

A gulf. A gulf.

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I found love. Has this love even found me?

Fell deep for nothing, still, I'm falling for you.