after the fall

I took it, still beating from my chest    
and crushed it in my traitor's hands    
tears of crimson salt    
spilling down my face in cleansing tears;    
the candle in my ribcage snuffed out    
between the blinks of my eyes.    
   
For years I clung to the dream of you    
when all I really wanted    
was for you to break my heart.    
I tried to run, and bury myself    
in warm dark places where I could forget  
the butterflies trapped in your gaze  
every time you looked at me.    
   
I loved you like the ocean    
madly, passionately, crazily    
and it wasn't enough to rework    
the wires inside that made me something    
I never wanted to be.    
   
It's over now, with two words we died  
and I'll never know if I broke the beating red organ    
wrapped snugly within your rib cage    
because I don't want to know if you still love me.    
This death of hope is a new breath    
to a new era, without the pretence  
that I could ever be anything other than me.    
   
© Indie Adams 2012