It’s easy to forget a broken heart. Until the glass breaks, and the neon rivers out onto the sun scorched streets. Then you remember. You remember every time. Drive in movies at the West Wind. “Now showing, Broken Hearts of a Time Long Passed: 1-6.” Six screens – six broken hearts. They weren’t all yours. But you’re the only one watching.
And yet again we learn,
people do not love broken things.
They do not keep broken things.
A broken glass, girl, or gate,
all of them need to be replaced.
A broken thing will never last.
Hopeless heroine. It’s too late to decide, if that’s the hero or the drug. 1am sounds like demons laughing from inside my head. Quiet them. Drown them. I see them crawling from the corners of my eyes. When I look nothing is there. There it is again. The scratching. They’re crawling through my hair. Everyone says the bugs are all in my head. They don’t exist. Everyone gets itchy.