Fragments

Suffering is why art is created.

Suffering and love.

Both which I find pretty got damn awful

I would never wish either of them on anyone. Love has cause me more misfortune and abuse than any substance I have ever consumed. 

Love is filled with many more chemicals than the countless cigarettes I have smoked.

At least they provided me with a sense of comfort, while any form of love I was given would cause my hands to shake, let my brain run wild and left my body to ache.

Past lovers lips leave awful tastes in your mouth which seems to stay, even after years of them being away.

Suffering and love go hand in hand. They are partners in crime

One can not love without suffering, one can not suffer without love.

In a sense, it is strung to the common belief that opposites attract

Love is suffering, Suffering is love

This is not a metaphor, but a fact.

Maybe I am writing this because I have watched too many chick flicks or because your lips are still in my mind

I gave you every inch of my being just to see you smile, because I loved you. Maybe that is why I am now alone, suffering, because I loved you

And like I said

Love is suffering,

Suffering is love

And I loved you so much, I thought that putting all of myself into a glass bowl and trusting your sweating palms to keep a good grip on it was a good idea, because I wanted to believe in you. 

And my head wasnt in the right place, I wasn't okay

I had thought maybe your hands were different, maybe they wouldn't cause my body to shatter and my soul to spill out, like blood onto concrete. 

But that's exactly what they did

And you didnt even apologize as I fell onto the floor

You did not try to piece me back together

You did not try to gather up my contents

You just left me there, fragments of myself left to linger on your carpet

And sometimes

I wonder if you can still hear the segments of my body crack between your Doc Martin boots.