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There are some things you told me that keep spinning in my head.

Some words hit me with the force of a tidal wave, leaving me breathless on impact. 
Wounds reopened, tender to the touch.

Other words, said in whispers, remain as such. I listen through the silence, and I hear them 
play their soft tune, and wonder at their meaning. They leave wounds of their own; though 
I know not intended. I suspect you have yet to guess their weight upon my soul.

I'm broken in half now, and, I know there's something beautiful about that. That 
incomprehensible beauty that comes with being completely torn down: the rawness. 
Vulnerability. But the feelings hold no glamor, as artistic as the fallen human paints itself. 
There is no glory in this state of living, only the alluring idea of authenticity that accompanies 
the shattered soul. And that is not who I am.

Oh, my heart hurts something fierce these days.

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