I numb myself.
I cauterize, I mollify.
I don’t let myself remember what it once felt like
I don’t let myself dream that I could feel that way again
Honestly, it’s easier to kill the pain at its source–
to tighten the tourniquet,
to put the pillow over its head and press down,
Than to feel the well of love and hope fill itself up again.
Its better to feel half of what I should and stop all the pain in its tracks.
My heart was broken once. I’m not sure I’ll survive when it breaks again.