learning that falling in love and falling apart are synonyms

i wanted a poem to come from my pain, like that would make it all worth it. like if i could give my hurt a voice it would make it worth suffering for. but my throat is dry and no words are coming out. i shouldve known better than to wake the beast with the expectation of finding a poet, but i cant ever be important if i cant cover my grief in glitter and tie it up all pretty with a bow for you.

i am bleeding and i cant do anything but push the knife deeper because its the only thing i know. and i speak to my reflection as the mirror shatters, “you are going to live like this and you are going to die like this, and whether you melt into the earth or turn into ashes you will still be as broken as you always have been.” but by a miracle or the cruelty of god i am clawing my way out of my grave and baring my teeth and the dirt is crumbling beneath my fingertips and i find myself sinking deeper still. i cant heal like i need to when ive grown so comfortable in the cracks of my body.

i know i need to, so tell me how to fix my heart. tell me how to make it a song.