I’m not,

Very Popular,

And I’m sure that’s because,

I’m not,

Very nice.

And I know that’s because

I’m better at loving broken hearts.

You see that thing about the broken hearted

Is that the world has them convinced that

Only time will heal them.

But me?

I don’t buy that.

Because hearts don’t heal,

Even when memories fade.

They grow,

And love more,

And more,

Until the initial break

Seems miniscule by comparison.

But what do I know

About hearts? Right?

I know they can hurt so much

You forget how to breathe

I know when that happens

We try to forget they’re there.

I know that Unrequited love is a knife,

And I am the scabbard

Because my love was never enough

To keep them here.

Because one at a time the five

Took blades to their wrists.

But what do I know about brokenness?

What do you know about me?

Do you have any idea what it is like,

To love someone with everything

And never be enough to fight for

Because physical attraction was

Worth more than friendship,

and sisterhood.

And Fuck you too!

Because if all of my efforts

are still not enough then I don’t care.

Because it was less of a knife buried deep

And more like a series of explosions

That left me wondering which

Pieces  should keep, and

Which I should bury with you.