cliffhearter

Everyday I talk my heart off the edge.

It’s always muttering about how it’s got to be the end of the world with the way it always hurts and breaks and breaks and breaks.

I say stop, I take it by the shoulders and shake it.

But it’s eyes never meet mine. Even if they did, I don’t think they’d see me.

They see nothing but him.

And he’s the worst sight for the heart’s reality and the best sight for the heart’s dreams.

Everyday I talk my heart off the edge and I don’t know how I hold so many conversations inside of me.