Dismantled

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Dismantling you was not the objective, but I can’t say that I’m surprised. If it were up to me, I would have left you as you were: without me. I don’t condone the purposeful destruction of yourself or another human, but I just could...

Dismantling you was not the objective, but I can’t say that I’m surprised. If it were up to me, I would have left you as you were: without me. I don’t condone the purposeful destruction of yourself or another human, but I just couldn’t help but watch you burn. Your tears were like heroin. It was easy at first, to unknowingly know you. The little things were all that mattered; your hair, your hobbies, and your favorite book. But one day, you changed. You opened up your chest cavity, tore off the tiniest piece of your beating heart and said, “Don’t break me.” What was I supposed to do? Give it back? Certainly not, how insulting that would have been, a slap to the face I’m sure. I took it, placed it in my pocket and left it there until the next time we met. As you continued to share, to open, to hand me pieces of you- I wondered if anyone had ever really listened to you before. You were intricate and well spoken for someone with so much anger. You believed in the good of people, although people never really believed in the good of you. Time after time of moments upon moments, you suddenly became angry with me. I had a pocket full of your heart that I never even asked for. My most precious gift to you was my time, but here you were scraping out vital organs to prove to me you cared. I desired your conversation, your laughter, the realm of your deepest beings. Who were you? I wanted to know so many times, until the day you opened yourself up and tried to hand me your heart again. I looked at the flesh and blood in your hand and pushed it away with tears in my eyes. “Why would you give me that piece? The piece he broke when his knuckles brushed your cheek. Why would you give me this one, the piece she stomped on when she left you alone? You’re handing me pieces of brokenness and anger that I have had no hand in doing. When I want your heart, I want it in whole. I will not hurt you or leave you or say I don’t care. You are handing me all the ways you cannot love yourself. I need you to love you first, because that is most important.” She shuttered in silence and retreated her hand back into her chest. For a moment, she was silent. “I dismantled myself for you, I took out all the broken pieces so I could be perfect for you. Why would you turn me away?”

Because I never thought you needed to be fixed in the first place.

Alexandra L. Narron

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