This is not a love letter

what it says on the tin

There’s a balloon stuck in my chest, being blown up into bits. Then stretched and blown up again, tearing at my ligaments.

There’s an anvil between my lungs, trying to weigh me down. I’m struggling to breathe and dying to drown.

There’s a sound between the first hello, and in between the second time you say my name. It’s a sound that stands its ground through more than just a little bit of pain.

There’s a moment between when I didn’t know, then I did. It contains the remains of a world gone to shreds.

There’s a place when you’re cornered, and there are no soft spots to land. The place tastes like marble, like edges, like sand.

There once was a person who had a grip on my heart. His hands left their imprints and burned me apart.

There are memories that I didn’t make up, I swear. That makes them so much harder to bear.

There’s a reason I need to cry, I do. I just don’t know how to bring myself to.

There’s a letter I would like to write. This is it. Just not quite.

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