When the heart

is worn,

of being apart,

of being alone.

.

When an ache

is born,

in the vacant voids,

and the echoing noise.

.

When the love

is torn,

like angry flesh, that bled.

like those letters, I misread.

.

It comes tearing through

.

The suppression,

The restrictions,

The constriction,

The confessions.

.

Never caring about

the laws.

Makes it’s way through

the flaws.

Struggles in my

frantic grasps.

Tumbles through all

clumsy clasps.

.

It fills and shines,

in triumphant glory.

Spilling yet another,

secret story.

.

The most unruly

heedless one,

tickles the check,

in mocking pun.

My defenses, defeated,

still try in vain.

A routine, repeated,

lets mutiny reign.

.

Trickle, tickle, trip.

First sliding, silently.

Crashing, shattering, breaking.

Then rioting, violently.

.

The armour,

The veils,

The walls,

The will.

.

It comes tearing through…

.

Maybe that’s why,

it’s called a tear.

 broken glass

2 thoughts on “Tearing through…

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