to the woman who bound her heart to mine from my birth

*Heart Post*

.

I hate the phrase “tug on my heartstrings”

Because my hearstrings are never tugged.

You’d rather rip them apart because you love watching pipes burst.

Love seeing my blood on your hands,

And me having no control over it.

Love tearing out the thread in my heart

And weaving yourself a scarf.

So you can display my pain on your soulders

And show it off as your greatest accomplishment.

Then you rebind my severed arteries

With twine of your own, attaching one end to yourself.

And make me dance like your puppet

So I’m forced to become dependent on you.

.

You clot my heart, so nothing spills out,

Because you don’t want anyone to know.

You hide the pain I bleed for you by sewing up the exits.

But no matter how good of a sergion you claim to be,

A small tear is always left.

Inside the smallest chamber, just a nick, a pinhole.

I can’t ever tell if it’s on purpose or not,

But the slow trickle of blood is enough to drown me.

Enough to make me hurt,

But not enough to show.

I don’t know how much more internal bleeding I can take.

.

An unborn child’s heart can beat in time with the mother’s

But in the womb, it was never my heartbeat aligning with your’s,

It was always your’s aligning with mine.

My heart pumps self hate

While your’s beats to the rhythm of mine,

Codependent on my tempo.

You slit my wrists and bleed me out,

Replace my blood with yours

So we’re tied together forever.

You believe that mistakes can be forgiven without apologies

Because you tied yourself to me.

That the injuries can heal without scars.

.

But all my heart wants is to detach from it’s puppet master,

Unclot it’s arteries, and let love flow through it’s veins again.

All I want is just for once,

My heart to experience beating for itself.

.

-Breann, The Splintered Pencil