Suffering From Vacancy

You call them bad boys

I call them issues
The ones who caught all the pieces
And threw them to the wind
All of them were issues
Catching hearts in pieces
Crushing them into spaces
You never even knew existed
Smashing and shaping the dust
Into bricks that will guard the space
That’s left.

You call them bad boys

I call them traitors
Heart traitors with a purpose
To collect as many pieces
As the issues they keep
Collecting patches that were cut
Clipping them into shapes
You never even knew existed
Cutting and trimming the fabric
Into fences that will stand in the space
That’s left.

You call them bad boys

I call them exes
The ones who stomped on the pieces
And laughed as you hung up the phone
Calcified ribbons of tears
Carved into mirrored edges of light
You never even knew existed
Dug into the flesh of your chest
Into reflective words you’ll never forget
So all that’s left,
Is the letters;
H
E
A
R
T
Where the heart once lived
Where now the pieces lie, suffering
The shards can’t come back together
In the vacant space
That’s left.

You call them bad boys

I call them issues
They tore apart my heart like tissues
Lightly floating in the breeze
Crumpling up that fragile paper
Capitalizing on familiar torture
The kind you always knew existed
Capitalizing on those fears
Turning them into purple bruised stories
And then what’s left,
Is not a heart, but
A blinking light…
“Vacancy”