the paint from the walls of my heart 

are starting to flake off and fall like confetti 

as if to celebrate the inevitable fact that you will leave once you know, 

and so you will be the last to know. 

you can almost see the outline of tallies carved into the ceiling 

marking each time i have been pulled apart and put back together again 

like a puzzle with always a few pieces missing each time it tries to make a full picture

(nobody needs to know the full picture)

i cannot possibly invite you in when there are 

bloodstains splattered across the room 

like an impressionist painting in a museum,  

my past is made up of pieces of a jigsaw that never quite fit, 

and you will never quite know why. 

the pipes are leaking through the attic and filling up my lungs again,

i can assure you that i am not damaged goods 

(please don’t return me, it took too long for me to get this close to you)

the forecast didn’t predict heartbreak weather today, 

i wasn’t expecting you to arrive this early and bring a storm with you, 

my wounds are aching and red, 

i’m afraid if you see them you will realize that 

this walking daydream has a lot of nightmares. 

this panoramic heart of mine is shattered and spreading 

like the ashes of the people i lost and the person i once was (or could’ve been)

and as you leave through the door after seeing me bleed for the first (and last) time, 

i take the knife and carve one more line through the tally.