There is a pinnacle moment in heart break.
Where you realize that you were not as important as you had allowed yourself to believe.
When the white knuckle grip loosens and you start to wonder if letting go would be easier that holding on.
If you only knew what it took to get to where I am.
If you saw the scares that I bear deep like endless caverns you would feel the fear of falling into the depths.
If you could open me up like a book and thumb through the tattered pages. The illustrations of blood and tears.
You could see all the times I revisited marked pages. Some present with evidence of my return.
Ripped out
Or repaired
If You could run your fingers down my spine and feel the steel I acquired to replace a backbone that didn’t exist.
The defects on the outside are Proof that I have been fond of learning the hard way.
Maybe it was the same with you…
I kept coming back to the pages.
Forgetting that I couldn’t move forward if I was returning to the chapters before.
And learning the hard way,
When you ripped them out yourself.
-B-