It’s as if I came apart
like a cheap plastic toy.
You reached into my chest, ripped out my heart
and your departure robbed me of all joy.
Left me walking around with rivers and wails running down my sleeve;
some places so wet, that they’ve never dried.
Fury is an acquired taste for those who grieve;
it is a very small gift for all the tears I cried.
You used to manipulate me like a puppet help by wire.
For so long I have stood screaming on this steep slope
Imprisoned here by an absent liar,
and virtually robbed of hope.
Constantly pondering whether I’ll always have this hole
gaping in the center of my soul.