I tear out pieces of my heart.
Leave them like bread crumbs.
They will show you the way back.
Proof
at least one person
feels like you.

We don’t know how to fill those spaces.
Tried booze
and drugs.
Food
and lack-thereof it.
Razor blades
and perfect strangers.

Blinders
only allow us to see the things we consider failings.
No indication how to change
or even name them.
When you can’t find the word
for what you need
not getting it becomes an inevitability.

Seven people
I have loved
lost their peripheral vision entirely.
Honed in on the emptiness.
Smothered by
longing
to know how to ask for something.

Four gun shots,
a bottle of pills,
rope tied tight to a garage rafter,
and a gas barbecue in the back of a van.

He stared across the room at me.

“The important thing to remember is that
that decision didn’t get them there, either.
It was as ineffective
as the tools they once relied on
in getting their needs met.”

So I leave pieces of my heart
strewn across blog posts,
emails,
text messages,
and letters.
To remind you
we are
always
getting stronger.

And our ferocity
has no limits.