Some words hit me with tidal wave force and searing pain, leaving me breathless on impact. Wounds reopened, tender at the touch.
And others, said in whisper, remain as such. A quiet voice, coming in-and-out with each breath. I listen through the silence, and hear them play their soft and subtle tune, and wonder at their meaning. These leave a wound of their own; though I know not intended. I suspect you have yet to guess their weight.
I'm broken in half now, and I know there's something beautiful about that. That incomprehensible beauty that comes with being completely torn down: the rawness. Vulnerability. But the feelings hold no glamour, as artistic as the fallen human paints itself. There is no glory in this state of living, only the alluring idea of authenticity that accompanies the shattered soul. And that is not who I am.
Oh, my heart hurts something fierce these days.
S.
{Photo via: We Heart It}