They tell you that you’ll fall in love,
but misery’s best kept secret is that
you’ll never climb back out.
For when a heart breaks it doesn’t shatter,
instead it crumbles slowly
as it’s chipped away like sandstone.
Those restless, clawing grasps
amount to merely bloodied fingertips,
their futile grip begging to be trampled.
And down once more you must fall,
Your pleas for mercy
boiling in your bitter blood,
wasted in senseless echoes.