Broken

You’re broken in just the right way.

When we lay side by side, our scars form constellations.

Every bike accident, every break up, better formed me to fit you.

Our hips crack in rhythm, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Anon.

Too Soon

Dear Broken,

Why do I always find you after someone has ripped your heart out? Why are you so broken, hurt, and unable to love again… until we stop hanging out and you meet someone else? Why do you have to be so tall, smart, funny and have exceptional taste in music/food/film/ [insert cultured interest here]? What is it about me that makes you think you can use me up and break me down until I finally muster the courage to say NO MORE?! You are so honest, so open about your hurt and pain. Hell, you even cry in front of me… how sensitive, how touching, I think. But really you’re just broken, sad and incapable of ever truly being there for me. Some day you’ll be whole again, but chances are I’ll have given up by then, and be in the possession of ten or so cats.

-The girl just before the Right one.