After you Broke me Open

Shattered, hollowed, stripped bare-that's how I felt after you left.

You reached into my chest, gripped my beating heart and pulled it from its chamber, leaving me ravaged, ruptured, cleaved wide open.

I bled ceaselessly, my wrecked spirit spilling out in endless tears. Each good memory a twisted knife, reminding me of how we once were.

In the aftermath, I cradled my fragmented pieces, searched the rubble for any semblance of who I used to be.

Your absence echoed, amplified all that was missing. The cold sheets, the vacant pillow, the bottomless silence sharding through me.

I traced my new scars, jagged, still raw. Wondered if I'd ever again feel anything but this throbbing, aching void where your love used to bloom.

But as time wore on, the bleeding stopped. The ragged edges slowly fused back together.

And where I felt only decaying ruins, new life began to sprout, fragile blossoms rising from the ashes.

Though you left me broken, the light now filters through the cracks, revealing untouched depths and silent strength under my fractured surface.

I rise slowly but I rise, after you broke me open.