Broken hearts everywhere

Broken hearts are everywhere. They bleed through the walls all around me, whispering to each other, blending love with loss and making plans to trick fate.

But broken things beg to be fixed. They tell you, "it'll be better if we just make this work. Wouldn't you rather fall apart later, or pick up the pieces now? And even if you did, where would you put them?"

So you rearrange the puzzle. You make it into something that resembles a full picture, but as the days go by you keep catching yourself fixating on the holes. Because in them, you see what you've been trying to avoid the whole time.

You see the excuses. You see the lies. You see everything else melt away until all that's left is an empty face in front of you saying it's all in your head - I'm not there anymore. I was gone a long time ago.

Or

Maybe I wasn't there at all.

You grasp unyieldingly the shreds of a memory riddled with minefields, laying in wait for your next careless step.

And even if you're blown sky-high, that's ok. It takes you far away from here.

Broken hearts are everywhere, but at least they're not lonely.