Heartbreak | 2 + 2 = 5?

I’ve been trying to figure out how to approach this one. I feel compelled to write something, but whenever I think of what this post might be like, even in a vague, general sense, I start to lose it immediately. The basics are that I want to share the difficulties of my recent process. I’ll focus on that. This is going to be a bit raw and deeply uncertain. I hope in sharing this that others who experience deep doubt regarding love and relationships feel seen, understood, and accompanied. In fact, every time I post on such things, someone tells me they’re grateful for my vulnerability and shared experience. I hope this post generates the same feeling of not being alone in the dark – that is likely the only version of suffering that is not useless.

This post is one of two that I am making for my birthday as kind of a creative gift to myself. The other, I recorded last night (actually on my birthday) as a first attempt at a true podcast-style recording, more intentional than my previous recorded clips. This post is the dark, shadowy path of the emotional process. The other one is kind of a counterpoint – a philosophical exploration of love and my personal experiences. It’s sad as well in parts but was also a joyous discussion of ideas and life. May they both find the audiences they benefit.

I met up with her about 10 days ago. She reached out after a solid radio silence. I actually thought I would never hear from her again, as our previous contact felt like she was either annoyed with my existence or at least that it was on the edges of her life and goals, or she didn’t want to feel guilty about the clear pain that I have been going through. We met with the intention of giving me the space to say whatever I needed for closure, but ultimately, to me at least, there were more than a few edges that felt like justification for being cut out.

I came home afterward with an article of clothing I had lent her and had been requesting back for some time. I smelled it, breathing in her scent and all the ideas of spending more time with her. I cried.

The moment that really broke me in this meeting was me trying to explain the ongoing evidence of how powerful our connection is. How unique. How profound, and she simply brushed all of that aside and said that she has a stronger connection with the other guy. I took it in stride, saying something like “Well, that’s that then,”, and clinked glasses with her, but honestly, it felt so crazy, so impossible, that she may as well have asserted that 2 + 2 = 5.

Here’s the thing: I’ve had long-term relationships with a few people. I’ve had dating adventures and sexual exploits. My connection with her is unique. It’s something that has made me question some of my perspectives and experiences, getting me to much more fully believe in magic. We’ve had oodles of moments of synchronicity. I can feel her presence sometimes. It’s an intuition that speaks to me and has led me to shared moments. It’s fully bizarre and something that can’t really fully be put into words. It’s deep. It’s meaningful.

To indicate that some other person has a more meaningful connection, who from all descriptions, seems completely unworthy of that category, is so intensive of a dissonance with my experience that it really makes me question everything I’ve felt for the last several months regarding her. It’s like after all these conversations about said connection being told that those were meaningless or not true. It simply seems impossible or utterly dismissive. Something is magic or it isn’t. You can’t claim something is magic for a long time and then just say it isn’t. It feels like gaslighting – not that that’s what she’s doing; it just feels like it in terms of emotional impact.

Ultimately, if love, relationships, and trust therein felt shaky before, they feel even shakier now. I feel so incredibly empty, so deeply called into question regarding my values and experiences. I feel like nothing means anything, not in any way I can trust.

I’m going to share portions of a couple recent journal writings to show this set of feelings unfolding candidly.

What’s wrong with me? At the same time, my heartmind is shifting to not having her. It’s cold. It’s dead. Life feels completely dull, empty.
Video games are about the only thing that has engaged me in a way that I don’t feel this existential ache. In the ache, love feels a lie. Relationships seem a manipulative game.
What can I do? Just sit. Sit in the pain. Sit in the existential doubts. The depths of the life underneath me opens. It may destroy my understanding of who I am and how that person lives and loves with others, but anything less than finding my way through this experience would be denying it and covering it over. The moon card. With gratitude.

Another from the day before my birthday this week:

One more day till b-day! I don’t really want to celebrate this year, to be honest. I feel generally like a failure and unlovable. Furthermore, I feel like love may not even be out there or trustworthy if I find it.
I sit with the feelings but they are deep and ongoing. I take care of myself and push forward with resolve and renewed focus on sitting and letting go, but it’s hard to grieve, and it’s hard to unravel a deep love and stories about yourself.
Something about this time is sending my mind into loops about how things could have gone differently, and it has plenty of room to whirl with these thoughts often.
I hate when the hard edges of anger come up in the process. It’s seldom — almost completely despair, but anger feels so much worse and ultimately far more pointless other than bolstering self-righteousness and a closed heart rather than empathy. I prefer the vulnerability and empathy. With gratitude.

At this point, that’s kind of where this has to end. This process unfolds. The opening to vulnerable, existential doubt is a sitting that I’m still in. The one really interesting overlap there that I’ll point out: I don’t believe in astrology, but I do hold an open mind about it as another interesting perspective to consider, rather than dismissing out of hand. Sometimes it seems quite insightful, and that can at least push questions, rather than give answers. I have been using an app called “The Pattern”. It provides “patterns” of the influences in your life, supposedly based on astrology, although unlike other astrology apps it doesn’t line out signs or planets, etc. Anyhow, I’m currently in a pattern that lasts almost two years which is supposed to challenge me deeply. They’ve called it “Mission Realignment”. The timing of events and the description are quite accurate and leave me pondering it as things I’m encountering on the path right now, even just as food for thought for breaking down current ego stories for new ones (I struggle with things being called “destiny” – maybe karma?). There’s so much of this that points to practicing harder to overcome the suffering of samsara as well as solid advice about just sitting in the difficult times and difficult emotions of life.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime period, during which you’ll face events designed to take you deeper.
It’s a period of intense activation. Events and experiences beyond your control may challenge your idea of who you are and help you align with your intended path.
You may feel like your deepest fears are surfacing, possibly believing that you’ll never reach your destiny. Or maybe it’s a general feeling that something crucial feels missing from your life and you’re being made aware of it.
You might imagine worst-case scenarios, worrying that you’ll be stuck living an unfulfilled life or never get what you want. You may be experiencing feelings and circumstances you’ve never felt or known before.
In this period of transformation, you’re being taken where you’re intended to go – but you can’t get to your future without going through this underworld initiation.
This energy takes you to a deeper level, forcing you to shed parts of yourself that are no longer necessary. You’re facing any shadow or unconscious behavior and uncovering anything you’ve kept hidden and repressed.
These issues are holding you back from aligning with who you are and they need to be dealt with in order to move on. It can be uncomfortable, painful, and trying, but the intention of this time is to overwhelm ordinary reality and cause you to question everything you hold to be true.
You may feel motivated to take a much deeper look at your life in the world. There could be a sense that things are getting out of control and buried secrets are being exposed or need to be revealed.
You might start to feel that your life is merely being lived on the surface, like there’s something inauthentic about it and you’re disconnected from your true instincts and genuine feelings.
It can seem like an immense gravitational force is making you look inward. On the extreme end, it might appear that everything you know is being destroyed and your entire identity is being dismantled.
In response you might have a desire to overturn ordinary reality or even wreck it as a way to speed up your transformation and growth.
You may have to face a situation that you can’t change or solve. Your will, strength, and logic don’t seem to help, and you can’t detach from it or pretend doesn’t matter.
You try, but you may feel like you can’t escape your fears and the feelings that are emerging. But you’re being taken out of your depth for a reason. What seems random and chaotic is, in fact, a set of instructions for self-development.
You’re overwhelmed because it feels impossible to do anything to make it better – so don’t try; instead, surrender to what you’re feeling.
This isn’t personal – you haven’t done anything wrong; this transformation is intentional. You’re being asked to courageously experience all the feelings and circumstances that arise without being able to control the outcome.
It’s a time to embrace the irrational and allow yourself to really feel, even if it’s fear, anger, or confusion. You’re being forced to sit with deeply buried emotions, and there’s no need to do anything but feel them.
This time may seem irrational and intense, but it’s an important initiation – freeing you in order to reach your destiny. If you consciously choose to participate, you’ll emerge stronger and more empowered.
You’re learning what it’s like to start from scratch and build yourself anew. In a spiritual sense, you may have to die to be reborn. Let go of any expectations and simply give in to your experiences.

The Pattern app – Timing

Another way to think of that – a combination of the Hermit, Moon, and Hanged Man cards, the three main cards that have continually appeared for me over the last few months, with just a pinch of the Strength card as well.

May this post make others feel seen and accompanied in the deep meaninglessness of heartbreak.


Fear & Meditation

Disclaimer: I actually wrote this about 3 months ago, but it was in the middle of a dry-spell for posting, so I didn’t reflexively jump on to add it. Before that, I had thought of this topic and wanted to write about it several times for months but never got together the initiative to set it to paper. Here it is now.

One of the greatest changes that has come from my Buddhist practice in the last year or so is a new relationship with fear. I will have difficulty explaining the depths and nuances of this change, but writing is a dance with the indescribable that comes forth as artistry or a muddled attempt thereof in this case. Please, Buddhas and bodhisattvas, lend me graceful expression and smile with patience when I fumble through.

The best example that comes to mind is how I now experience spiders. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been terrified of spiders. How do you describe a phobia? It’s really difficult — in part, because not everyone has one. I know this because people have tried to logically rationalize me out of my phobia throughout my life. They speak to you as though this experience is based only on false premises, misapprehensions, that merely have to be rectified. Such a therapeutic strategy, while well-intentioned,  clearly does not understand the visceral and fundamental nature of this fear. You can’t just explain that the boogeyman isn’t real with a phobia because this isn’t based on some sort of belief. It hits fast and hard —  disarming thought before it can ever take place. Hence, there’s no chance to ever come to the conclusion that the little spider is tiny and harmless. Nope, its very existence is fear incarnate. There’s not even a gap to reach a judgment; there is merely and fully reaction. Pure reaction.

I remember moments from years ago when I noticed a spider near me in the room, and I either fled as quickly as possible, asking for help from friends and family or stood petrified, unable to escape this object of terror. That’s the part that’s really hard to explain to those who haven’t experienced a phobia. The object of horror is not something that is evaluated. It’s not a rational process in the sense of working through a line of reasoning. It’s more primal, more immediate. With spiders, it’s something about their shape, something about their movement. Their existence itself has been the embodiment of fear for me.

Let’s compare this with a recent experience with spiders after months of meditation and dharma study. About a week ago, I was in my garage. I plugged something into a socket in the wall. As I did so, the cord rustled some cobwebs along the wall below, and I saw a small black shape scurry through them. I looked down, and my immediate reaction was – “SPIDER!” I moved back just a bit, but then, I watched, transfixed. It had such a classic shape, and I leaned to the side to get a better look as it rushed to a small hole in the wood. I thought: “Wait! Is that a black widow?” Then, I paused, uncertain as I looked for the telltale splotch on its thorax. “Maybe, it’s a brown recluse,” I surmised, knowing that they live in this region in such conditions. I decided that I’d better be careful grabbing things off the shelves in the garage, but at the same time, I felt grateful to have seen this rare and beautiful creature as it lived in its dark, cozy corner. I wondered at what fear I must have caused it — invading its space as a giant with bright lights, even if only briefly.


Notice, there was still a certain amount of reaction but only enough to readjust awareness to the situation at hand, and I still have the caution of knowing that I shouldn’t go grabbing and petting spiders. However, I am not terrified of them any longer. In them, I see the wonder of millions of years of evolution, of the entirety of the universe’s history. They are intricate and beautiful, a natural masterpiece and as wondrous as all of the mysterious unfoldings of existence.

How have I reached such a different perspective? Meditation. I’ve spent hours focusing on my breath, consistently unplugging from my stream of thoughts and reactions. I’ve never directly faced these particular fears in meditation although I’m an admirer of Chöd and would love to cultivate that practice. Instead, I’ve meditated on my mind and on impermanence. This has brought about a gradual dissolution of my reactivity in general. However, it is much harder to let go of anger and perceived slights of ego. That’s something I hope will find its own path of liberation with continued practice.

May this inspire others who have dealt with their own overwhelming fears, even if its merely a sporadically encountered phobia.


Heartbreak Wisdom Journal — Entry 9: Scar

Several months ago, as the end of my relationship began to unfold, I wrote a poem about having a scab over my heart (read it here)–inspired by one of my last visits to my ex, in which she and I (and cute cat in tow) acted as a family, saving a little baby bird that our curious cat had found. In the process, I climbed up on a neighbor’s roof, scraping my knee and leaving a nasty scab. The emotional treatment I got during this time period left a scab on my heart too, hence the poem.

Now, so many months later, I feel that change has come, but it’s only one letter of change: from scab to scar. Of course, I don’t mean to say that this change just happened today or recently, for that matter. No, healing is a process, and many changes are processes (by that I mean longer term developments). However, I’ve encountered so many times, in both everyday conversations and even in my masters psychology courses, talk of healing as though it’s a return to fullness to the same state as the way things used to be. However, the word “healing” and the associated concept are related to “health”, and “health” is ultimately an idea/understanding of physical well-being. Why is this important? Anyone who has lived much past childhood can likely understand/agree with the proposition that some wounds do not “heal” to be what they once were. In fact, most wounds don’t once we get past the abundant vitality of youth (though it may take some time before we realize that things didn’t “heal” fully). For instance, I sprained my ankle badly once in my late teens. It’s never been the same since, but for the most part, it functions well enough to get by without issue. That’s what healing is: a return to general functionality–well-being. It is not a cure. Curing is a complete eradication of ailment, which would apply mostly to disease; with a contagion, viruses/bacteria can be completely killed off. Healing has to do with the fact that we are unfolding processes of change on biological, mental, emotional, and spiritual levels. With healing, there is a recognition of the organic nature of these becomings: time marches on, all of these changes are impermanent (in the sense of not being a final change), and even a revitalization does not mean that everything can be or is reversed.

Scar tissue is a particular example of this irreversible healing. I have a four-inch long scar on my lower abdomen where my appendix was removed as a child. Despite the initial pain of a cut that had opened all the way to my internal organs, the pain receded within a couple weeks, and I could do most things normally afterward. However, for a year or so afterward, I remember being unable to do certain exercises like sit-ups without excruciating agony after a few repetitions, and even today there feels like a slight imbalance between my right and left sides. While it may be minor, and perhaps, the difference is in my head, it has affected my experience, and the scar has had a long-term impact on my life.


Years ago, I had a cut much like this one after having my appendix removed. What do the wounds and scars of heartbreak look like?

Scar tissue can be sensitive for a long time, and the muscle may mend but not quite to the strength of what it once was. Internal scar tissue can even cause problems for organ functioning, as it is different than the normal tissue around it.

So how about the scar tissue of a broken heart? Honestly, I can’t readily say. Very few days go by where I don’t miss her in some way–usually minor but sometimes greater. It’s the scar’s tingling, unique sensitivity–that of nostalgia. In fact, I dreamt of her recently, and though the dream was odd and painful, it left the rest of my day an aching knot.

The one thing about the healing that seems more certain is that I don’t feel the same way about romantic love. I’m not seeking it, and I have little interest in it. It seems primarily tied up with stories of self and finding completion in another. That’s the whole game of samsaric conflicts that I don’t need.

Plus, I reached a deep-seated love of absolute gratitude for my ex, foibles and all–not that this meant that I didn’t see and support how she could grow past her painful patterns; acceptance is not enabling such patterns. This is a regular point of confusion for people. Acceptance is not collusion. Just because it isn’t some sort of domineering attempt to force a person to change does not mean that it is a stance that enables a person to remain hurtful to themselves and others; true acceptance is seeing a person’s beauty and pain and trying to help them get past their pain out of love for their well-being. A mother loves her children with her entire existence, but this does not mean that she lets them do selfish and maladaptive things. Instead, she tries to steer them to the best path and growth for them, although this requires some discipline at times. The problem is seeing what should be done for that end of helping and loving someone else and what is being done out of one’s own selfishness… I’m not sure that healing can take me back to a state of opening like that–intense gratitude–with another person. It’s difficult to describe the overwhelming joy and gratitude I had for her in the last few weeks I was with her. I feel like this experience may never return, no matter how much time is allotted for healing. Instead, the tingling pain of a scar remains. Instead of actively seeking this type of love again, I’m cultivating love and compassion for existence now.

I don’t know what the future will bring, and I don’t worry about it. If romantic love comes my way, fine. If not, fine. I don’t seek it or deny it. I don’t worry about it. No attachment. Whatever arises. Meanwhile, the wound heals in its own way.

May this help others find their own peace with their scars.


Previous Heartbreak Wisdom Journal Entry– Entry 8: Reclaiming Shards of the Past
Next Heartbreak Wisdom Journal Entry– Entry 10: Echoes/Grief

Heartbreak Wisdom Journal — Entry 8: Reclaiming Shards of the Past

For the longest time, I’ve been unable to listen to one of my favorite songs. Why? During my time with my ex, it became a song about our relationship, and sometimes, even she called it “our song”. This song is “Your Hand in Mine” by the ever-magnificent Explosions in the Sky. This post-rock anthem has always tugged at my heartstrings, despite having listened to it hundreds of times.

After being dumped, the reminders of everything were just too much to listen to this song. At this point, it still plucked at those heartstrings but in a way that I could not bear. I’d just skip it whenever I heard it. Recently, though, I found myself listening to this song again one morning over my ritual cup of coffee. Not only did I listen to the song once, I repeated it numerous times, taking a simple joy in listening to this beloved song for the first time in a long while.

It’s very difficult to get past the emotion in such things. Most people try their damnedest to forget by covering up their past or running from it. That’s not really moving on though (See an earlier post on this here). That’s just as reactive as clinging to something, and running like that leaves unresolved issues, untended wounds seeping deep inside. It takes time and patience–a resolve and open courage–to face the terrors and tortures that you experience in life and sit through them, yet there is no better way to be authentic and to walk your life’s path with a compassionate and awakened heart.

I’ve also found an ability to listen to this song recently which has always symbolically reminded me of the connection of the love between me and her. Now, the pain of that connection is no longer frightening or anxiety-provoking. It just is. I can hear these songs and experience the joy and beauty of them along with residual feelings of pain and sadness. That no longer scares me. After all I’ve been through in the last few months. I can sit with equanimity through many more of life’s challenges; strong, courageous, and awake–the tender presence that gives birth to deep compassion.

Thoughts and emotions will always arise. The purpose of practice is not to get rid of them. We can no more put a stop to thoughts and emotions than we can put a stop to the worldly circumstances that seemingly turn for or against us. We can, however, choose to welcome and work with them. On one level, they are nothing but sensations. When we don’t solidify or judge them as good or bad, right or wrong, favorable or unfavorable, we can utilize them to progress on the path.
We utilize thoughts and emotions by watching them arise and dissolve. As we do this, we see they are insubstantial. When we are able to see through them, we realize they can’t really bind us, lead us astray, or distort our sense of reality. And we no longer expect them to cease. The very expectation that thoughts and emotions should cease is a misconception. We can free ourselves from this misconception in meditation.
In the sutras it says, “What good is manure, if not to fertilize sugar cane crops?” Similarly, we can say, “What good are thoughts and emotions–in fact all of our experiences–if not to increase our realization?” What prevents us from making good use of them are the fears and reactions that come from our self-importance. Therefore, the Buddha taught us to let things be. Without feeling threatened or trying to control them, just let things arise naturally and let them be.
When ego-mind becomes transparent through meditation, we have no reason to be afraid of it. This greatly reduces our suffering. We may actually develop a passion for seeing all aspects of our minds. This attitude is at the heart of the practice of self-reflection.
-Dzigar Kongtrül, “It’s Up to You”, pp. 8-9

pablo (2)

May this inspire you to find your own ability to let things be and to utilize your own experiences to increase your realization.


Previous Heartbreak Wisdom Journal Entry– Entry 7: Letting Go of the Person You Used to Be (Part 2)
Next Heartbreak Wisdom Journal Entry– Entry 9: Scar

Heartbreak Wisdom Journal–Entry 7: Letting Go of the Person You Used to Be (Part 1)

Clarification: I’m splitting this piece into two parts. The first is my own personal experience of late, and the second is a related long quote that goes well with this, but I feel it best to let them both stand on their own, yet connected and in a harmonic resonance with each other.

Last weekend, I went down to the city I used to live in with my ex. I stayed with mutual friends–the first time seeing them in months. It was eye-opening. After all this time and change, I’ve still been carrying some ideas that this home has some elements that are the same, but like me, really, so much has shifted. I went, in part, to feel this connection again and to weigh the opportunity of returning there. It was odd, unhemlich really: some things still felt like the home I miss and love–homey=heimlich, but there was an overarching foreignness alongside this familiarity–unhomey=unheimlich: that bizarre feeling when the familiar is unfamiliar. The saddest part was how distant others were when I saw those other connections beyond the friends I stayed with. All of this made me realize that if I go back, it will have to be completely on my own steam and without expecting the familiar to be there. As sad as that may be, seeing things clearly, especially even the most subtle layers of desire and hope–unconscious ones, can be liberating. Seeing clearly what you are holding onto can gently open the hand, letting those things fall away.

The hardest thing was that I almost saw her. Even just hearing her voice from a distance brought up all the little idiosyncrasies about her that I still miss. I lost a partner and a best friend so many months ago with this breakup, and it is very often, still, that I hear her voice in my head, saying certain things just that particular way that only she would say them, or I can almost hear and see her responding to the goofiness that I regularly bring into the world.

Yet, the gusto of her voice, also recalled all those bizarre relationship-ending conversations, galvanized with that sentiment of self-righteousness, as though the point of this life-changing decision were distinguishing right and wrong. That voice, those eyes, that cold feeling of being disconnected from reality with overlays of denial… I’m glad that I chose not to go say hello. I don’t see any benefit in facing that now, if any of it remains at all. If that is the case, certainly she wouldn’t be interested either. She wanted my presence cut from her life, wanted me dead in a certain sense, and she’s never reached out again afterward. She could just as readily have walked down to say hello to me as well; the decision did not have to be made by me, and clearly, she didn’t want to. That’s fine. Ultimately, one of the largest parts of moving on in the kind of situation I’m in is accepting the choice of a person you love to not love you anymore. In a certain sense, it’s dying with grace. It’s letting go of the person you used to be.

I came back home to my life in the Seattle area, after this whirlwind trip, and I began the work week again. It was a bit jarring making this transition… For the week previous to the trip, I had been doing a Healing Bootcamp of sorts, described in The Wisdom of a Broken Heart, but I didn’t finish the closing of the last day due to leaving on my trip to see my friends and my old home. The middle of the relief program requires a journalling of the beginning, middle, and end of the relationship–piece by piece, and then, you write down points of gratitude for each of these stages and offer them upon your altar. At the end of the program, you perform loving-kindness meditation for your ex and burn the offered gratitude while stating that for now this relationship is over, and you are a better person for having experienced it.


A simple altar that I set up for this recovery program — sans the written offerings described in this post

After returning from a trip of letting go, I belatedly did this final ritual–opening my heart with loving-kindness and burning the past with a cleansing fire. I stood on the bricks in the backyard, lighting each piece and feeling the warmth of the fire sharing my joy at the gifts I’ve been given (and was offering as gift over to the flames) but also burning them away–past and gone. Unlike a rebound or more aggressively “moving on”, this whole process was so kind, loving, gentle, yet affirming. It has been a completely mindful way of growing through heartbreak with acceptance, even gratitude, for pain and change. It’s not a denial of the past or the present in the slightest. On the contrary, it’s showing up for it: taking the path of the spiritual warrior–knowing that even this, maybe even especially this, is an opportunity for practice.

I still have a lot of healing to go, so there may still be several other entries in the Heartbreak Wisdom Journal, but this experience was definitely a turning point, and I feel some liberation from showing up to the person I used to be and tenderly, yet bravely, letting go of him.

Here is what I had to say about the ritual in my Morning Pages earlier this week:

I spoke to each note, reading them all aloud and emphasizing how wonderful each point of gratitude was but emphasizing also, like everything, these pass too. These moments were gone. The points of gratitude–the experiences–have shaped me. Their karmic consequences have begun blooming, yet, their cause, and the connection associated with them, has been severed and crushed. Now, it has also been burned. The fire was beautiful–flickering flames lapped at my words of gratitude, embracing them and celebrating them with the burning joy they deserved. Now, those words are dissipated, spread on the wind. Who knows what comes next? Not I.
This has given me some small amount of emotional clearance, yet there is much more healing to come.

May this help you find your own ability to let go of the person you used to be.

Previous Heartbreak Wisdom Journal Entry– Entry 6: Forgiveness
Next Heartbreak Wisdom Journal Entry– Entry 7: Letting Go of the Person You Used to Be (Part 2)

A Scab

I pulled a scab off my knee today.
The red, irritated skin underneath
Breathed with fresh life.
No longer a tingling itch
Behind a brown carapace.
No longer a patch of “skin”
Lacking the intimate
Sensitivity of touch.
I felt renewed, yet vulnerable
And aware of my frailty.

The skin was scraped away
In a moment – blood
Suddenly seeping out
Of an aching hole,
A surprising, spontaneous lack
Of a piece of me,
So minor and present
Merely moments before.
Now, two weeks later,
The red of the blood
Matches the newly born,
Red skin…

I now have a scrape on my heart,
A place of lack, ache, and emotions
Seeping through to fill the wound.
How long will this take to heal?
When will I peel back
The crystallized feelings
Finding a renewed, yet vulnerable
Heart underneath?