Broken

the ceiling
seems much brighter at night
as I lay staring
until my eyes close, giving in
to the pain.

tonight
is a night for staring at the ceiling,
for mulling things over
and walking hand in hand
with that person
I talk to only
in my head.

I push away that pain.
I am stronger
than this.
I pay my respect
to the millions of years
of evolution
that we seem to casually forget
from time to time.

the pain—not
in my eyes—
but beneath the blade,
lies the reason
I manage
a full night of thinking;
thinking of
you
and your formidable
words
as you speak of us
together.

I am a broken piece of china,
cutting into you
as your knife like words
do to me.